


And You Were Right There Beside Me

by doctormccoy



Series: There's Only Three Things [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas Fic, Aftercare, Bottom!Bucky, Bottom!Steve (Chapter 24), Brief Clint/Bucky, Christmas Sweaters, Christmas tree shopping, Come Sharing, Crossdressing, Cuddling, Deep Throating, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, Implied Natasha/Clint - Freeform, M/M, Minor Angst, Morning Sex, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Polyamory, Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rimming, Sam Isn't Allowed On The Roof, Schmoop, Some D/s elements, Spitroasting, Threesomes, foodplay, implied Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormccoy/pseuds/doctormccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled: 25 Days of Superhero Nerd Boyfriends Celebrating Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Up All Night"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JNg8I6IjwY) by Owl City.
> 
> So, each day I have a word prompt that I plan to turn into a fic a day until Christmas. Some will be longer than others, some might be super short. Tags will be added as we go along.
> 
> Rated E just because I know there'll be chapters with sex, but not every chapter will have sex, etc. 
> 
> These stories all take place in the same universe as the other two stories in the There's Only Three Things series, but, can be read independently. (However you will get some helpful background on their relationship by reading the others, and I'd recommend it!)

“I want to go pick out a Christmas tree,” Bucky announces, startling the two men beneath him from the movie they’d just been watching. Some zombie horror thing that moved too slow to hold Bucky’s interest, but, had kept Steve and Sam enraptured for the last hour. Bucky spent most of that time sprawled lazy between them, his head on Sam’s thigh and his legs tossed lazily over Steve’s lap, idly flipping through a beautifully illustrated copy of _The Hobbit_ that he’d ordered off the internet last week. 

“Why’s that, Buck?” Steve asked absently, his fingers massaging gentle circles into Bucky’s calves as his attention returns back to the intense action sequence on the television, body instantly tensing when a zombie appeared from around a corner. Bucky lowers his book to stare at the blond haired man, his eyebrow arched and eyes dancing with amusement. He’s definitely going to make them regret watching this movie later tonight when he wakes them with loud zombie noises played from Sam’s phone. 

“Because I want one, and it’s that time of year. Last year we were too… busy. This year I want a proper Christmas,” he grumbles, looking away and refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. By ‘busy’, Sam and Steve both knew that Bucky meant they were both too occupied trying to keep a recovering brainwashed assassin from imploding to celebrate the holiday properly. 

Sam hums softly and pets his fingers through Bucky’s long hair, his gaze flitting between the screen and the now pliant man on his lap. Nothing made Bucky relax more than someone touching his hair and Sam watches as Bucky goes limp against his thigh, eyes closed and the tension between his eyebrows smoothing over. 

“Alright, then, Bucky. We’ll go get a Christmas tree.”

The trio are bundled in sweaters, heavy coats, and boots, complete with mittens, hats, and scarves against the freezing December air when they arrive at the tree farm near the outskirts of DC, and Bucky is clearly struggling to contain his excitement at the endless rows of every kind of pine and fir tree you could imagine. 

“Remember, Buck, we need to be able to fit it in our living room,” Steve said, amused at the way this clearly goes in one ear and out the other. He exchanges a look with Sam and knows neither of them really mind the enthusiasm Bucky shows as he climbs out of the backseat of Sam’s SUV, tugging the knitted blue and green hat down over his ears to keep them warm. 

“We have to find the best one. It has to be perfect,” Bucky murmured, his voice quiet but determined as he peers out across the neat rows of Christmas trees. Sam chuckles warmly and hands Steve the axe they had brought along, shoving the roll of twine in his coat pocket.

“Lead the way, then, Bucky. This is your show,” Sam declared, gesturing at the farm with a wide, sweeping motion of his arm. He swears he sees the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitch up in a smile before he’s stomping through the considerably deep snow with his big black boots, peering intently at every single tree as they go by.

Some are too short, others are too tall. Many are dismissed for not having enough branches and Bucky declares that he has no interest in the unimpressive looking pine trees. He has his heart set on a Douglas Fir.

Half an hour into their hunt and Sam’s toes have gone cold in his boots. His hands remains warm between his thick gloves and the vice like grip Bucky has on one of them, tugging him, and Steve, from tree to tree, intent on finding one that “speaks” to him. 

Sam is waiting for either himself or Steve to snap when finally, _finally_ , an hour into their venture, Bucky points and announces, “I want this one. It’s perfect.”

Bucky releases Steve’s hand so the super soldier can start to chop it down, letting Sam pull him in until his back is pressed to Sam’s chest, the taller man’s arms circling around Bucky’s shoulders. 

“What makes this one so special?” Sam hummed in Bucky’s ear, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder while they watch Steve layer several neat chops at the base of the tree. Privately, Sam’s happy it appears, at least, to be pretty reasonably sized. He doesn’t think that he or Steve would have it in them to turn Bucky down if he wanted a giant one, even if it wouldn’t fit through the front door.

“It’s nice and healthy, and all the limbs are big and full. It’ll look beautiful with all the decorations and ornaments on it,” Bucky sighed, digging an elbow into Sam’s ribs when a cold nose is playfully nudged against the warm skin behind his ear. 

This turns into a competition of elbows and jabbing fingers that results in him and Sam both tumbling back into a snow drift, wrestling for dominance to the sound of their Christmas tree hitting the ground.

At some point the wrestling turns into aggressive kissing and Bucky sighs as Sam pins him down into the wet snow and licks his way into Bucky’s mouth, spreading his legs easily for Sam to settle between them. Bucky really likes kissing Sam because the man is incredibly good with his tongue and all it takes is one neat swipe across the roof of Bucky’s mouth to make him weak kneed, panting softly against his lips.

He’s ready to take his pants off and bend over right there in the snow until Sam is yelping and rolling off him, grabbing at his back like it’s on fire. 

Steve is standing over them looking terribly smug and if Bucky had to guess he’d say Sam just got a nice handful of cold powder down his shirt for his troubles. 

“You done the deed, Captain Lumberjack?” Bucky asked, pushing himself back up onto his feet and brushing the snow off his jeans. Steve doesn’t even get to answer the question before Sam tackles him sideways into the snow shouting “Sneak attack!” At least they’re far enough from the other trees that there aren’t any other casualties to this high stakes game of wrestling besides Steve’s ego.

Bucky hums a song he heard on the television yesterday as he picks up the ball of twine, which had fallen out of Sam’s coat pocket in the middle of their disagreement, and starts to carefully tie the branches down, ignoring the two men struggling in the snow nearby. 

He’s so absorbed in his task he doesn’t even notice when the scuffling finally stops, finishing the last row of branches before a snort of laughter from behind startles him.

“Bucky, are you singing _Beyonce?_ ” Sam snickered, eyes shining with mischief. Steve’s grinning, too, and Bucky shrugs, picking up the axe and handing it off to Sam.

“Absolutely. Beyonce is awesome,” he replied with a wink, stalking past them with his nose in the air, gesturing at the tree with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder.

“Steve, you be careful with my baby or I’ll spend another hour choosing out a replacement.”

Bucky has never seen Steve step so gingerly in his entire life.

The drive back to Sam’s passes in comfortable silence, once Steve finally gets the tree tied to the roof of the car, with Bucky staring out the window the entire ride, smiling secretively to himself.

The tree is carried into the house without any difficulties, and once Steve gets it situated in the bowl with the screws dug deep into the wood to hold it upright Sam pulls out his decorations from the closet, removing glass balls and Hallmarks from their boxes. 

“Most of these stuff came from my Gram. I couldn’t bear to let it be thrown away or donated after she passed, so I kept them. It’ll be nice to actually see them get some use this year,” Sam admitted wistfully, watching the reverent way Bucky combs through the decorations. 

They’ll have to get lights tomorrow, but, for now Bucky is content to wrap the dark green tree in bright purple and silver tinsel, making sure it was neat and even before he moves onto the actual ornaments. He puts Steve on the task of decorating the rest of the house with fake snowflakes and Sam gets the job of lighting a fire in the hearth, pinning three of the handmade woolen stockings on the hearth while he waits for the flames to catch.

It isn’t until the Fir is positively dripping with ornaments and Sam returns from a trip to the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and three mugs of hot chocolate that Bucky finally let’s himself be coaxed onto the couch and away from the tree.

He’s more than content to sit snugly between Sam and Steve while they watch an animated movie about singing penguins they find playing on some station, his eyes hooded and mug held close to his face so he can breathe the chocolatey steam into cold sore lungs. 

“Hey, Buck?” Steve asks softly after a few minutes of silent sipping, his voice gentle but curious, “Why was it so important to find the perfect tree earlier? We passed by a lot of really nice ones but you were pretty determined to find this one in particular.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment as he chews and swallows his mouthful of popcorn, metal fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic mug to the beat of the song playing on the television.

“I guess ‘cause it’s my first time getting to have a real Christmas since before the war. And ‘cause it’s my first Christmas with you and Sam as… well, as me, and not the Winter Soldier. I want it to be perfect, so I can’t ever forget it, no matter what happens,” he admits finally, staring pointedly at the foam of melted marshmallows on the top of his hot chocolate rather than at either of the men sitting beside him. 

That is until strong fingers are gently prying the cup from him and guide him sideways to lay down on the couch on top of Sam, who has shifted to sprawl back with his head pillowed on the armrest. Seconds later Steve is curling up beside the pair of them and tossing an arm across both their bodies, his cheek on Sam’s shoulder so he can nudge his nose against Bucky’s.

This forced Bucky to look at both of them and he can’t help the color threatening to rise in his cheeks at the intense twin stares he’s receiving.

“This’ll be the best Christmas you could ever hope to have, Bucky. Just tell us what you want and we’ll make it happen,” Steve promises, combing his fingers through Bucky’s hair before cradling the back of his head in his palm to guide him in for a kiss, lips brushing gently.

“This is an important Christmas for us, too, and we want it to be just as special and memorable,” Sam agrees, pressing kisses to the top of Bucky’s head, one arm curled comfortably around Steve while the other rests against the small of Bucky’s back. 

Bucky adamantly denies the faint burn of emotion at the back of his throat and mumbles something about being trapped in this house with the two biggest saps in the world.

“And the tree ain’t one of them.”

The sound of Steve and Sam’s laughter is like music to his ears.


	2. Candy Canes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gets Bucky a gift.
> 
> Steve is unamused.
> 
> Sam doesn't seem to mind because it makes Bucky's ass look fantastic.

“Bucky you can’t be serious.”

Steve sounds mortified and Bucky grins like the Cheshire Cat, crossing one leg over the other with his feet propped up on Steve’s dashboard.

“Natasha got them for me. Something about two men telling her I’m overflowing with so much holiday cheer it’s like I’m a literal Santa hatted candy cane on the front of a Christmas card.”

Bucky gestures to his outfit and smirks at him over his dark sunglasses, pleased at the low groan this drags from Steve’s throat. 

“I didn’t mean that as a challenge to one up yourself.”

Natasha had gotten Bucky a pair of offensively bright white leggings covered in candy canes and rather than protest or get indignant Bucky, instead, dumps his jeans to the floor right there in the kitchen and yanks the stretchy fabric up to his waist, refusing to be outdone by the Russian spy. 

He adds to the outfit with his dark black boots, navy blue peacoat, sunglasses, and a knitted grey slouchy hat that Darcy had given him on his birthday. 

“Bucky, you look like some twenty year old hipster’s closet threw up on you,” Steve snorted, but, realizing he wasn’t about to get anywhere with this argument, he backs the SUV out of the driveway. 

“We’re only going to visit Sam for lunch, it isn’t like we’re going anywhere fancy,” Bucky said with a yawn, pulling out his phone so he can play a game. The VA wasn’t terribly far from their home, but, the traffic in the city made for a boring and uneventful ride.

“Tell Natasha that she will not win.”

Steve mutters under his breath along the lines of definitely telling Natasha something, that was for sure.

Sam has a more amused reaction than Steve does, covering his mouth when Bucky walks in to hide the laugh that wants to burst from his throat.

“Who is this hipster nerd and where did my other super soldier go?” he teased, leaning back in his chair when Bucky goes around the desk to sit on his lap, legs sliding neatly through the gaps in the arm rests.

“Tis the season,” Bucky says, his voice so even and his expression so serious that Sam bursts out laughing despite himself, pulling a sly grin from the man on top of him. 

“One word: Natasha,” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes while Bucky leans in to steal an enthusiastic kiss from Sam mid laugh, arms draping lazily around his shoulders. 

Sam slides his hands up Bucky’s thighs to squeeze his ass appreciatively, laying a playful lick against Bucky’s jawline. 

“Remind me to thank her later.”


	3. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's frost on the window and it looks so delicate. Beautiful, even.
> 
> If only Bucky was capable of enjoying it.
> 
> Luckily Sam knows how to bring him back from the brink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Frost
> 
> Warning for Bucky experiencing a pretty severe dissocciative episode.
> 
> This chapter is mostly Sam and Bucky because Sam Wilson is a gift and I felt they needed some solid cuddle time by themselves.

The morning starts off like most others, or, at least like most others since Bucky had come to live with Steve and Sam. 

Steve and Sam wake up at an ungodly hour to go running and Bucky crawls out of bed sometime before they get back, pouring himself into a shower so he can be reasonably presentable when they return. He brushes the tangles from his long hair and carefully shaves the stubble from his cheeks, wandering back to the bedroom so he can find something to wear. He doesn’t have any plans for the day except maybe a date with the Christmas movie marathon that was going to be on after lunchtime, so, he elects for a baggy pair of jeans and one of Sam’s massive green hoodies, pleased by the way it falls halfway to his knees and how the sleeves engulf both of his hands. 

Plus there’s the added bonus of it smelling like Sam. 

He tugs the hood up over his head to fight off the morning chill until his hair dries and makes his way towards the kitchen with half formed ideas of cooking breakfast for the three of them. 

Bucky reaches out to drag the curtain back from the sliding porch door to let the sun in when he suddenly goes ramrod still, metal fingers crushing the dark red cotton. 

It had been a very cold night and the frost was still clinging stubbornly to the glass, spider webbing out in intricate, featherlike designs, looking fragile and almost beautiful. The breath rushes out of him and creates a fog against the glass and suddenly Bucky isn’t staring out at Sam’s backyard but instead sees a cold, dark lab, filled with blank faces and a chair, a chair that’s meant for _him._

When Sam returns an hour later with a box of doughnuts and two enormous styrofoam cups of gingerbread coffee, Bucky’s favorite, he’s not prepared for the sight of his curtains nailed down to the wall on either side of the sliding door, or the trail of blood across his carpet. 

“Bucky?” he calls out quietly, reaching into one of the lower kitchen cabinets to pull out the gun that’s duct taped to the top of it, checking that the safety is off before he carefully makes his way down the hall. 

Sam can hear the water running in the bathroom and is seized by a moment of pure, unfiltered terror as he reaches out to shove the door open and is met by a wall of damp heat. 

He could have cried with relief when he sees Bucky is sitting up and seems to be unhurt, but, Sam instantly notes the distant fear creasing Bucky’s face beneath the spray of the water and the way his knees are hugged protectively up under his chin. He’s still dressed and looks soaked to the bone, like he’s been sitting in the shower for days. 

“Bucky? Is everything alright?” Sam asks cautiously, fully aware that he’s not in any way capable of fighting the other man off if he’s snapped back to the Winter Soldier, but, unwilling to let Bucky think that Sam is afraid of him. He puts the gun down outside the door and approaches him carefully, squatting down beside the tub so he’s on Bucky’s level. 

Bucky blinks and some of the fog seems to clear from his vision, though he’s still staring at Sam like he doesn’t quite yet believe he’s there. 

“Is this a dream?” Bucky murmurs, sounding lost while his eyes sweep over Sam as if trying to catalog his presence in the bathroom.

Sam’s brows furrow and he wonders where Bucky could have gotten that idea. He’d been doing so well these past few months and Sam wonders if maybe he and Steve rushed into leaving him alone too soon if he was still having episodes this debilitating. 

“Of course not, Bucky. It’s really me, right here with you.”

He can feel the heat coming off the water, now, and hopes that Bucky hasn’t burned himself as he reaches out towards the knobs with the intention of shutting it off. He’s stopped by a panicked hand grabbing for his wrist and winces at the vice like grip, turning to look at Bucky again just in time to catch the look of raw despair on his face. 

“Please. Please don’t. I can’t- They’re gonna lock me in the dark again and I don’t want to forget,” Bucky whimpered and, not for the first time, Sam curses Alexander Pierce and every other Hydra member for ever being born.

“No, no, sweetheart. I promise, they aren’t going to get you, never again,” Sam replied in a rush, kicking off his jogging shoes and carefully stepping into the tub with Bucky, hardly caring that his bathroom floor is totally soaked by now. 

He winces at the near scalding heat of the water as he settles down beneath it with the other man, who is shivering like he’s outside in the snow, and pulls Bucky onto his lap, cradling him to his chest and quietly thankful that his water heater is one of the best on the market. 

“It’s okay. Steve and I won’t let them anywhere near you, I promise,” he whispers into the top of Bucky’s head, stroking his fingers through his soaked hair to try and soothe away the shaking. Bucky makes a broken noise against his throat but doesn’t pull away, letting Sam envelop him in his touch. Sam wishes Steve hadn’t decided to visit Peggy today because this was definitely the worst episode Bucky’s had in a long time and he isn’t used to fielding them on his own. 

He didn’t have the same history with Bucky that Steve did. There aren’t as many memories to anchor Bucky to Sam as there are to anchor him to Steve.

Despite this grim assessment Bucky seems to be doing better after several long minutes of Sam holding him close beneath the spray of the water. Sam tells him stories about the ridiculous ways he and his siblings used to get in trouble when they were kids. He describes the delicious peach cobbler his Mom always made on Easter, and the first time he ever tried to kiss a girl and she laid him out flat on the playground.

Bucky finally resurfaces halfway into a story about how Sam lost his first tooth in the world’s most aggressive game of tag, drawing back from Sam’s chest to stare up at him quietly. 

“Did I hurt anybody?”

It was always the first question Bucky asked whenever he had one of these episodes and every time Sam was happy to smile and shake his head, cradling his palm against the back of Bucky’s head.

“No, sweetheart. I think you might have stepped on a nail but you didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam soothes, chuckling when Bucky leans in to thunk their foreheads together, trembling as relief rushed through him. 

Sam reaches back to finally turn off the hot water and stands up with a loud snap and pop of stiff joints, helping Bucky up onto his feet as well. Bucky is still too shaky and overwhelmed to be of much help as Sam removes their wet clothing and leaves it in the bath, barely even protesting when he’s lifted out of the tub and carried towards the bedroom. 

He remains sitting on the bed while Sam rummages through the closet for something dry, staring quietly at his hands. 

“The window was.. It had frost. On it. And it- I couldn’t breathe,” he whispered, letting Sam guide his arms through the sleeves of another sweatshirt, eyes damp as he looks up. Sam’s expression is patient and gentle and Bucky’s feels better having told him, leaning in to wrap his arms around Sam’s middle and pressing his face into his stomach. 

Sam’s fingers return to their gentle slide through his hair, massaging circles against his scalp that make Bucky feel a little less like a total fuckup. 

“I understand, Bucky. It must have been a very frightening thing for you to have to confront all on your own,” Sam soothes, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. 

Sam always had a way of talking to Bucky like he really did understand what he was going through. He always made Bucky feel like what he was going through was valid. That he didn’t have to explain himself every time he fell apart like this. It was something he desperately needed in those long months after Sam and Steve save him from the gutter and take him home to heal. Sam and Steve gave Bucky stability, even when he felt like the entire world was about to fall to pieces.

“I didn’t want to forget you and Steve,” Bucky mumbles into Sam’s stomach, ducking his head when Sam kneels down in front of him and takes his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to Bucky’s knee.

“You won’t, Bucky. Steve and I will never let Hydra hurt you ever again. We promised you this Christmas would be a memorable one, right? One you won’t ever forget,” Sam said warmly, reaching up to cup one hand against Bucky’s cheek, thumb brushing across the high arch of his cheekbone. 

Bucky blinks and nods, biting his lip before he turns his head to press a kiss to the palm cradling his face.

“I trust you.”

An easy smile spreads across Sam’s mouth that fills Bucky with a liquid warmth, like a mouthful of hot soup, and he lets Sam finish dressing them both in silence, even welcoming the arms under his thighs that lift him off the bed and carry him back out into the living room. 

Sam doesn’t demand an apology from Bucky for the ruined curtains or the holes in his drywall and Bucky doesn’t make one. Bucky knows Sam understands why he did it and to offer an apology, now, would cheapen that faith and trust he puts in Sam each time he tells him what’s bothering him. 

So he says nothing and lets Sam clean the scrape on his foot from the nail he’d stepped on with warm water and an odorless disinfectant spray Stark had made for this exact purpose, shivering at the way Sam brushed his lips against Bucky’s ankle in silent apology each time he twitched with discomfort. The hammer and leftover nails are cleared off the rug while Bucky drinks the coffee Sam reheats in the microwave for him, his eyes following the other man around the house. 

“Steve’ll be home in time for lunch. He went to visit Peggy this morning after our run,” Sam says at some point and Bucky nods, too drained to do much else at that point and wanting nothing more than to sleep the rest of his life. 

Sam joins him on the couch with doughnuts and flicks through the channels until he comes to rest on the Christmas movie marathon that Bucky had planned on watching that day. Bucky doesn’t remember telling him, or Steve, about wanting to see the marathon and he blinks rapidly to clear away the dampness welling at the back of his eyes before sinking sideways against Sam’s side, turning his face into his shoulder.

Sam’s arm slides easily around him and it takes a bit of wriggling before Bucky finally finds himself situated the way he wants, with Sam sprawled back against the couch and Bucky held snug on top of him, Sam’s legs on either side of his hips and Bucky’s cheek pillowed on his sternum. 

Bucky can hear the steady thrum of Sam’s heartbeat this way and he focuses on the relaxing rhythm, arms circling around Sam’s waist in the little hollow of space right above his ass, more than pleased that he’s managed to plaster himself entirely against the other man. 

They’re well into their second movie when Bucky hears the opening of the front door signaling Steve’s return, refusing to move from the warm space he’s made for himself against Sam’s chest. Sam’s fingers have been sliding through his hair this entire time and it’s only the sudden, overpowering smell of pizza that convinces him to resist the urge to fall back into his sleepy stupor.

“Well this is certainly a sight for sore eyes,” Steve chuckles from somewhere near the couch and Bucky can feel the rumble of laughter in Sam’s chest. He tilts his head up to see Steve standing there with fondness creasing at the corners of his eyes and three large pizza boxes in hand. 

“Pineapple, pepperoni, and bacon?” Bucky asks lowly, the grin spreading unbidden across his face when Steve quirks an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Please, like I would forget.’

Steve doesn’t remark on the curtains still nailed down to the wall around the door when he sits down next to them on the couch. Bucky’s pretty sure Sam must have texted him to warn him in advance not to make a big deal out of it and that everyone was okay. Steve stopped on his way home from Peggy’s to get pineapple pepperoni bacon pizza because he knew Bucky had a rough day. 

Bucky loves them both so much it makes his heart ache in his chest. 

He sits up so Sam can stretch sore limbs and reaches for his box, realizing just then how hungry he was after missing breakfast. 

“How’s my best girl doing?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of greasy pizza, sighing at the pleasantly salty sweet mix of pineapple and bacon hitting his taste buds.

Steve laughs and slips his arm easily around Bucky’s shoulders, dropping an easy kiss to the top of his head before he returns to his own pizza, meat lovers supreme with broccoli, because Steve is a savage who mixes vegetables with his junk food.

“She said to remind you to stop calling her that because she may be an old lady but she’s still quite capable of knocking you on your ass.”

Bucky nods sagely and reaches out for his glass of water, downing it in a few quick gulps. 

“So, healthy as an ox and with the fighting spirit to match.”

Steve snickers and throws him a grin that says, ‘You think?’

That sends the corners of Bucky’s lips curling into a small smile and he lets Sam pull him back against his chest, propped up as the former airman was against the armrest of the couch, stretching out so he can rest his feet on Steve’s thigh. He liked being able to touch them both as much as possible when they’re nearby. It made Bucky feel anchored – supported.

Wanted.

Without even thinking about it Steve’s hand comes to rest on Bucky’s ankle, fingers rubbing absent circles into the skin there as he eats, distracted by the animated Rudolph singing on the television.

Bucky smiles again. 

He tips his head back against Sam’s shoulder and works on his second slice of pizza, laughing when Sam grabs his hand and pulls it up so he can lick the grease from his fingers. Steve gives him a look from across the couch that makes Bucky aware of just how much he likes the sight of Sam’s sucking on his fingers.

Pizza on the couch somehow ends up with them naked on the bed and Bucky sighs as Steve pulls him onto his lap, back to chest, and sinks into him, hands holding Bucky’s thighs open for Sam to slip between them and leave small lovebites across his belly as he kisses his way down to Bucky’s cock, purplish and achingly hard. His mouth is hot and wet when he sucks Bucky down and it doesn’t take long for him and Steve to make Bucky come, Steve nailing his prostate with each sharp jerk of his hips. 

Bucky refuses to be the only one that comes and he extricates himself from Steve so he can sprawl across his back and pull Sam in, spreading his legs easily to allow the former soldier to press between them, sighing as he slides inside where Steve had been seconds ago. Sam fucks him slow and sweet, peppering his face and neck with little kisses while Steve sits nearby, his hand on his own cock to keep on the edge while he watches Sam and Bucky. 

Bucky whispers “Thank you” over and over as Sam rocks into him, denying the hot rush of tears that want to escape him when Sam mouths against his ear, murmuring an endless string of love and adoration. He comes deep inside of Bucky, who has grown hard again while they made love, and Sam replaces his cock with his fingers, swallowing Bucky’s cock down once more until he’s made him come again, leaving Bucky a quivering, needy mess for Steve.

There’s a sleepy, sated smile on Sam’s face as he curls up on his side to watch Steve guide his cock into Bucky once more and he reaches out to toy with Bucky’s sensitive nipples to see if they can’t bring him off one more time, layering gentle kisses on his shoulder while Steve rocks into him. 

Steve fucks him a little harder than Sam did and Bucky writhes beneath the combined touch of both men, hand shooting up to grab at Sam’s hair when a hot mouth closes around the brown nub of his nipple, cock jumping between his thighs. Thankfully the botched serum inside him gives him a far better refractory period than he would normally have because otherwise they’d be hard pressed to wring so many orgasms from him in such a short period of time. 

A ragged moan tears itself from Bucky’s throat only to be swallowed by Steve’s mouth on his and Bucky’s other hand snakes its way into Steve’s dark blond hair, clinging to both men like the anchors that they are. 

Steve snaps his hips against Bucky’s ass at the same time Sam scrapes his teeth across Bucky’s nipple and Bucky’s done for, coming with a strangled sob of pleasure for the third time that night. Steve fucks him through it before coming himself, only pulling out when Bucky finally waves his hand in a vague gesture that means he needs to take a breather, panting softly and stomach sticky white with his own come. 

He tries not to whimper when Sam and Steve both lick him clean, or when they turn to kiss each other and lick the flavor of Bucky from the other’s tongue.

Bucky feels pleasantly sore all over and he lets the pair of them manhandle him onto his side so they can bracket around him more easily, Sam curled snugly against his back while Steve tugs them both against his chest, their limbs tangled together in a way that has Bucky wondering where he stopped and the other two began.

Sam and Steve had set out to wear him down in the hopes he’d be too tired to have any nightmares like he usually does after an episode like the one he had today, not for their sakes but for _his._ They never seemed put out no matter how many times Bucky woke them with his screaming, but, they both know how rough the night terrors are on him. 

It makes Bucky feel full and warm and he smiles faintly, closing his eyes without fear. Even if he has a nightmare he knows they’ll both be there to help him through it. They always are. 

It leaves Bucky without a single doubt that this is exactly where he belongs and that this will be by far the most memorable Christmas he’s ever had.


	4. Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam just wanted to do something nice for Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Santa

Sam just wanted to do something nice for Bucky. 

The morning started earlier than any of them really wanted, with Steve banging into the bedroom for his shield and uniform when he sees on the morning news that there’s a bank robbery in progress complete with hostages in the city. Sam’s already awake, but, Bucky startles into consciousness from where he’d been wrapped around Sam like his best imitation of a land octopus with no small amount of unhappy grumbling.

After a long shower, which involves Sam sliding to his knees and sucking Bucky’s brains out through his cock, Bucky’s definitely in a better mood, shoving Sam onto the bed so he can kneel between his thighs and return the favor. 

Bucky makes breakfast while Sam removes the nails holding down the curtains over the slider door, leaving the tattered fabric up for now until someone gets the chance to buy replacements. There’s scrambled eggs with bacon and skillet fried hash browns, and Bucky puts away three solid cups of coffee before ‘awake’ is a word in his vocabulary.

Sam wants to put a smile on Bucky’s face after the rough day he’d had yesterday and so, after some rummaging through his garage, he finds a plastic Santa that he thinks will look nice on the roof of their house if he plants it near the chimney.

“Are you sure you’re the one that has to do this? I’m quite capable of climbing a ladder,” Bucky calls from the ground, bundled up in Steve’s enormous feather down coat and a scarf wrapped around his face against the biting chill. It’s especially freezing that day and Sam can feel his feet slipping on the icy roof tiles as he climbs his way across to the chimney.

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it. I’m an Airman, remember? Falling isn’t in our nature,” Sam yells back, squatting down so he can hammer a couple of nails down to serve as anchors for the plastic Santa. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to be entirely in agreement with this logic, his eyebrows knitting almost comically over the red flannel scarf obscuring most of his face. 

“Okay, but, one of us is a lot harder to kill than the other and it definitely ain’t you,” Bucky snorts, stuffing his mittened hands into his pockets. Sam had already slipped before he even made it all the way up the ladder and Bucky was never going to let him live it down if he fell on his ass and ended up in a bush. 

“Relax, sweetheart, I got this,” Sam said with a dismissive wave of his hand, setting the hammer aside so he can start tying the anchoring strings of the Santa to the nail hooks he’d made.

He felt his feet slipping before he even realized it and, unable to find any traction on the icy tiles, Sam hits the roof with a solid crack, his head whipping back and smacking against the chimney before he slips down the sloped side.

He lands on the frozen ground below with a loud thud and goes limp, chest heaving as his lungs struggle to pull in air that had just been forced out of them in a rush of solid pain. Bucky startles forward and scrambles across the snow crusted grass to get to Sam, all traces of amusement long gone. 

“Sam? Sam!”

Sam can hear Bucky yelling but it sounds distant through the fog of pain and rapidly encroaching darkness that’s threatening to swallow him. And then there’s only silence and the blissful escape from the miserable throb in his skull that the inky blackness provides. 

Sam just wanted to do something nice for Bucky. 

When he slowly starts to resurface the pain has deadened to a dull roar and Sam is made aware of his location by the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside him. He cracks his eyelids open and winces at the light that pours into his vision, sharpening the pain in his skull for a moment before it drops off into that steady throb once more. 

So, he’s in the hospital. That’s a thing that happened today.

Steve was going to kill him when he got home, though, privately, Sam thinks Steve is the last person with any sort of right to accuse someone of being reckless. 

Once he feels brave enough to try again, Sam cracks his eyes open a second time, relieved that he isn’t hit with quite such a strong wave of pain as before. He opens them a little wider and reaches up with a shaky hand to press the button on his morphine drip, hoping that the stuff would kick in fast. 

A quick self-inventory made him aware that all four limbs were still intact and functional, but, Sam was pretty sure he was going to be one giant bruise by nightfall. His head is wrapped in a thick bandage and he can feel stitches across the back of his head where he must have all but split his skull open on the brick chimney. 

Bucky was going to hold this over his head for the rest of his life, whatever little bit he had left to live once Steve got through with him.

Sam winces when he realizes Bucky must still be at home, desperately trying to reach an on duty Steve between calls to the hospital demanding answers. Bucky hated hospitals and doctors. He wouldn’t even go to his psychiatrist’s office because of the memories it set off, and Sam can only imagine the terrible scenarios running through Bucky’s head right now after having to send Sam away to his nightmares. Sam really had to make it up to him for this one, he only hopes-

His internal self-flagellation is interrupted by a small noise from beside him and he carefully creeps his eyelids back open and is shocked to see Bucky seated in a chair beside his bed, his knees tucked up under his chin and completely, impossibly fast asleep. 

Bucky had come with him to the hospital.

Bucky had ridden in the ambulance and come to _the hospital_ with him. Sam could see dried smears of blood on his cheek and on the front of his coat that are undeniably his and squirms with guilt, reaching out carefully to rest his hand on one of Bucky’s. If were was ever any doubt in Sam’s mind that Bucky loves him as much as he loves Steve it’s blown away by the sight of Bucky in this hospital room with him.

He expects a sudden, jerking reaction to the contact but, instead, watches as Bucky slowly comes out of his stupor, his eyes still hooded as he stares at Sam, cataloging the fact that Sam is looking back. 

And then Sam finds himself with a lapful of former Hydra assassin and, despite the flare of discomfort from sore muscles being jostled, Sam is happy to slide his arms around Bucky and pull him the rest of the way into the tiny hospital bed. 

“I’m sorry I scared you like that, sweetheart. Next time I’ll listen to you when you tell me not to go climbing on the roof in the dead of winter,” Sam said softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from having the wind knocked out of him. He strokes his fingers through Bucky’s hair like he always does and gives him a few minutes to compose himself, dutifully not remarking on the dampness soaking the front of his hospital gown.

“You’re damn right you will, you stubborn fucking punk,” Bucky growls finally, leaning up so he can cover Sam’s face in small kisses, hands cradling his jaw. 

“Between you falling off the roof and Steve jumping out of planes without a chute you’re gonna drive me into an early grave. My heart isn’t built to take this kind of stress.”

Sam ducks his head guiltily and nods, pulling Bucky back in to burrow against his chest. 

“I know, Bucky, and I truly am sorry. It was reckless and stupid. And I’m sorry you had to come to the hospital on top of all of this. I know it’s probably been a hellish nightmare for you,” Sam sighed, resting his chin on the top of Bucky’s head. 

Bucky is quiet for a long moment, his ear pressed to Sam’s chest to listen to the reassuring, steady beating of his heart. 

“It isn’t as awful as the thought of losing you. Or as terrifying as the sight of watching you fall like that. There was.. a lot of blood. I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” Bucky admits in a small voice. Any apologetic reply Sam might have is interrupted by the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway and the sudden slam of the door, revealing Steve, still dressed in his uniform and with his shield poised in front of him as if it could protect him from the sight of an injured Sam. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees Sam is awake and that Bucky is with him, stepping inside and closing the door before he attracts an even bigger audience than he already has.

“You stupid, reckless jackass, you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” he snaps, but, there’s no real venom in the words as he strides forward, throwing the shield aside so he can grab Sam’s face and kiss him hard. 

When he’s made sure with his own hands that Sam’s all in one piece he leans down to kiss Bucky with decidedly far more tenderness, sliding his fingers through his dark curls. He sits down heavily in Bucky’s vacated seat and scoots it closer to the bed so he can reach out and take Sam’s hand, gently stroking his fingers across the warm skin.

“The Doctor said you were lucky that Bucky was there and had it together enough to put pressure on the bleeding until the ambulance arrived. You’ve got a pretty nasty concussion and your entire backside is going to be one massive bruise, but, it could have been a lot worse. You could have broken your neck, Sam, or worse, ended up dead. What on earth were you even doing up on the roof in the first place?” Steve sighed, eyebrow arching at the embarrassed flush that rises in Sam’s cheeks. 

“I was, uh.. Putting Santa on the roof?” he replied weakly, earning a tired snort of laughter from the man cradled against his chest. 

“Mister ‘Falling Isn’t In Our Nature’ over here was being a stubborn little shit, just like someone else I know with a penchant for reckless decision making.”

Steve’s the one looking properly embarrassed, now, and he reaches out to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, massaging gentle circles into his skull.

“Why do you even put up with us, Buck?” Sam chuckles lowly, brushing his lips against the crown of Bucky’s head. 

Bucky shrugs and closes his eyes, pulling his scarf back up over his nose to try and block out the smell and sight of the hospital room.

“I'm a sucker for kicked puppy eyes. You’re just lucky you’re both too cute to give up that easily,” he grunts, eyes slitting open to stare at Steve when he barks out a laugh. Steve, at least, seems largely uninjured. He definitely needs a shower and there’s signs of gun blowback on the lighter parts of his uniform, but, there aren’t any injuries that require Bucky’s attention for the moment. 

That seems to be when Steve’s mind catches up and he realizes Bucky’s actually there, in a hospital, and Bucky’s nose wrinkles faintly at the expression of utter fondness creasing Steve’s face. 

“I’m proud of you, Buck. You did good today,” Steve murmured, leaning in to steal a kiss from the unimpressed man. 

Bucky shrugs and closes his eyes once more, clearly intent on remaining in the bed with Sam until someone came and physically pried him out of it. 

“Don’t get used to it. And don’t expect our first few nights back home to be undisturbed, either.”

That was about as close as Bucky was going to get to admitting he was actually stone cold terrified and the emotional fallout once they got home would be horribly spectacular. 

“We’ll face that when it comes, Buck, just like we always do,” Steve murmurs, leaning down so he can rest his tired head on the bed beside them, keen on catching a nap after such a stressful day. 

A comfortable silence settles over the exhausted men for a few brief moments. 

“Sam is banned from the roof. Forever.”

Bucky’s voice is muffled by Sam’s chest and slurred with sleep, but, it’s clear he intends to be judge, jury, and executioner when it comes to carrying out that sentence. 

Sam gives a startled chuckle and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder, pleased to have the furnace of a man cradled on top of him to fight against the antiseptic chill of the hospital room.

“No arguments here, sweetheart.”

It would be a very, very long time before Sam’s bruised back would let him forget it.


	5. Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam once asked Steve what makes him happy.
> 
> Steve finally has an answer to his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Pie

Sam refused to spend a second day in the hospital. One day was more than enough and while he agrees to stay overnight for observation to make sure his concussion doesn’t worsen, by the time the sun starts coming up the next morning he’s already champing at the bit to go home.

Steve had gone back to the house for a few hours to change and eat but Bucky had refused to so much as leave the bed Sam was in the entire time. Luckily Steve’s notoriety made it easy for them to convince the hospital to let Bucky stay the night. 

Sam knows Bucky didn’t sleep a single second, though, once he wakes up from his catnap after Steve’s arrival. He insisted he had to stay on watch to protect Sam, and, given Bucky’s multiple, and understandable, phobias involving hospitals and doctors, Sam doesn’t even try to convince him he doesn’t need a guard and Hydra wasn’t about to come for them.

Which is why, now that they’re finally home and Sam’s been situated on the couch with ice packs on his aching back, Bucky is out cold on the carpet in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in the blanket Steve had draped over him and face smashed deep into his pillow. Sam can’t blame him, really – it’d been a stressful day for everyone. 

Steve makes sure he’s settled in with the remote and a bottle of water before he runs to the store for some easy to digest foods and other necessities. The Doctor had warned them that the pain medications Sam was on for the concussion and the deep tissue bruising in his back often caused nausea and loss of appetite and their cupboards were kind of bare at the moment. It’d also be good for Bucky if there were easy foods around the house, especially if he had any nightmares. They tended to result in bouts of depression, sleeplessness, and fatigue, and he often lost his appetite on top of that.

Sam and Steve could usually coax him into eating at least once or twice a day, though, if there were frozen waffles and canned ravioli in the house. 

The most difficult part of Bucky’s nightmares in the recent months was that they were completely and utterly silent. In the beginning there had been screaming and thrashing, with each memory surfacing as something new and previously forgotten, like a half healed wound torn open and bleeding once more. Now there was very little that Bucky didn’t remember of his time with Hydra and what was once easy to spot way off on the horizon was now nearly impossible to notice, even if one was looking for the signs. 

Luckily Steve seemed to have some sort of special radar for when Bucky was in the throes of a bad dream and all it takes is him striding into the living room after he returns from his shopping trip for his face to twist into an expression of dismay.

“Bucky? Buck, I need you to wake up,” Steve said gently, kneeling beside the man who seemed to be, for all intents and purposes, sleeping completely soundly. Despite Sam’s beliefs to the contrary, it isn’t any sort of gift or sixth sense that lets Steve know when Bucky is suffering in silence.

Bucky’s face tells him everything he needs to know. 

Steve has known Bucky all his life and every single micro expression is as familiar to him as his own hands. When Bucky sleeps, even now, there’s always some strained sort of look on his face, like sleeping was a chore that distracted him from the world. His brow would be furrowed, and lines would crease vaguely at the corners of his eyes. 

When Bucky was having a nightmare his face would be smooth. Impassive. Empty.

Like the Winter Soldier. 

“Buckaboo. Buckabee. Bucky bear. Time to get up or you’ll be late for your date.”

Steve knows better than to touch Bucky until he’s woken up, but, it’s as if even in the pits of his own mental Hell Bucky has the ability to hear when Steve’s being an ass.

“Not a fuckin’ bear, you dumb punk,” Bucky grumbles, turning his face away from Steve to hide it in the pillow. Steve strokes his hair gently, letting Bucky take the time he needs to compose himself while he offers the best comfort he can. 

“You wanna talk about it, Buck?”

Back in the beginning Bucky refused to tell him or Sam anything that he remembered from his days with Hydra and, while they could guess the theme of his nightmares, he never told them about a single one. It took a while for them to coax him into opening up and while he still didn’t tell them everything they had come a long way in terms of Bucky learning to trust them with his darkest secrets.

Bucky nods, to Steve’s relief, and sits up so he can slide his arms around Steve’s shoulders, letting the larger man wrap him up in a tight hug. 

“Dreamed about you falling, you and Sam. From the Helicarrier. It was dumb luck that you were able to catch onto the edge, and Sam was able to engage his parachute in time. You both could have died that day and it would’ve been my fault. I would have made you fall,” Bucky mumbled, his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the patient understanding on Sam’s and Steve’s faces. It was a conversation they had often enough – Bucky still harbored a lot of guilt over the people he had hurt and it was a struggle to forget how close he came to killing Sam and Steve, and Natasha, who had become a good friend to him over the past several months.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve squeezed his arms around Bucky and made sure to take the time to form his words carefully before he spoke. He and Sam had talked with Bucky’s therapist on numerous occasions about how to help him deal with and understand his own guilt and trauma and number one on the list of “things to never ever do” was dismissing Bucky’s apologies. It was important to acknowledge them for what they were and give Bucky the chance to relieve some of the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The only way Bucky was ever going to move past what he had done was to acknowledge that he had done it and try to earn his own forgiveness. The first step in that was for him to feel he’d earned theirs. 

“I know you are, Buck, and we forgive you. Hydra made you do it and if it were your call we know you’d have made a different choice,” Steve murmured, pleased when Bucky relaxes in his grip. They stay like that by the fire for a few minutes, Bucky clutching at Steve and Steve holding him just as tightly, until Bucky finally pulls away, metal fingers running awkwardly through his hair.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said in a small voice, eyes fluttering shut again when Steve leans in to ghost his lips over Bucky’s forehead. 

“Anytime, Buck.”

Sam’s stomach chooses that moment to howl with aggressive intent and the man refuses to be embarrassed when two pairs of eyes turn to look at him with matching raised eyebrows.

“Have you ever tried eating hospital food? I deserve a medal for not starving to death,” Sam protests, carefully sitting up and wincing as his sore muscles protest every single twitch. The now warm ice packs are piled on the coffee table and he pointedly opens his arms, gesturing for Bucky to join him. 

Bucky shakes his head, but, he’s smiling as he detaches himself from Steve to climb up onto the couch and into Sam’s lap, his knees on either side of his thighs so he can bury his face against his throat.

“You were barely even there for twenty four hours I don’t think even a regular human like you can starve to death that quickly,” Bucky snickers, back arching up like a cat’s when Sam rubs his palm down the length of his spine. 

Steve is thoroughly unimpressed that he seems to be relegated to food fetching duty and he grumbles good naturedly about lazy men and indentured servitude not being in the contract when they got together. 

Sam lets Bucky steal the remote and isn’t surprised when they end up on a channel playing reruns of _Monk_ , one of Bucky’s go-to guilty pleasures. 

He almost forgets that Steve is making food until he reappears with three plates balanced precariously in his hands, each piled high with ice cream and two slices of pie. When Sam takes his plate he notices that one is apple and the other is pecan – his favorites.

“I’m not sure this falls under the category of acceptable pre-dinner snacks,” Bucky teases, smirking at Steve as he reaches for his own plate, the metal spoon clicking against his prosthetic fingers. He certainly isn’t complaining, though, and quiet settles over the room as they eat in companionable peace, watching as Natalie argues with Monk about getting a pay raise. 

It’d been a long couple of days but Sam could be okay with every evening being more like this, with Bucky’s legs still tossed over his lap despite the man moving to sit sideways against the arm rest so he can watch the television, Steve’s thigh warm pressed up against his own. It was comfortable and easy just sitting there and eating pie and ice cream while they laughed at the antics of the detectives on screen. 

“Hey Sam?” Steve murmured, breaking the silence that had settled between them as they ate. 

“Mm?” Sam hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen and his plate resting on Bucky’s crossed ankles so he could eat with one hand and rub Bucky’s foot absently with the other. 

“You once asked me what made me happy. You remember that?”

Sam chuckled, arching an eyebrow as he took another bite of pecan pie. He can feel Bucky’s curious gaze settling on the pair of them, wondering where this was going.

“Yeah, I remember. What about it?” Sam asked, digging his thumb into the arch of Bucky’s heel. 

Steve smiles and leans back to stare fondly at his plate, spooning a large mouthful of pumpkin into his mouth.

“ _Pie._ ”

They’re all laughing so hard that they miss the end of the episode.


	6. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoveling, hot chocolate, and sex in front of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6: Hot Chocolate
> 
> Chapter Rating: Explicit
> 
> There's some minor crossdressing Bucky in here that will make more sense if you've read ['Til We Lose Control.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2587052)

“Okay, so, I’m forever banned from any and all roof adventures but you guys somehow are not?” Sam groused, his arms folded over his chest as he grumpily surveys Steve and Bucky tugging on boots and gloves, an expression like sour milk on his face. 

“Someone needs to clean the new snow off the roof before we get even more with the storm that’s coming, unless you want your roof relocated to the middle of the living room,” Steve snorted, amused by the petulant frown he gets in response. 

“Someone without a history of falling from high places,” Bucky added, tying his scarf firmly around his face to fight off the chill outside. Winter had dumped almost a foot of fresh powder on the city the night before and the weather channel was predicting another storm was on the way. 

Sam shot him an unimpressed look, shifting back against the ice packs that are held against his bruised body by ace bandages. 

“Oh, is that how it is, now?” Sam grunted, ignoring the cheeky wink Steve shoots him before him and Bucky head outside.

Sam can hear them banging their shovels overhead as he tries to focus on the book he’s reading, thoroughly put out that he’s stuck here in the house, laid up like some sort of invalid. Granted he is still recovering from a concussion and is sporting some of the most impressive bruising he’d ever seen in his life, but, it’s the principle of the thing. 

He forces himself to his feet and gingerly makes his way towards the kitchen, determined to find some way of being useful, even if he can’t go outside and help shovel the snow. 

Steve and Bucky don’t necessarily enjoy the chore of shoving the snow off the porch and onto the lawn. Bucky privately doesn’t understand why Sam’s even grumpy that he can’t join them – he’d be more than willing to sit inside the house with the warm fire and his book and iPod if he were in his shoes. The snow is a light, fine powder, but the lack of weight to it means it just wants to funnel on either side of Bucky’s shovel rather than actually gain any traction on the way down the roof.

Not to mention the wind blowing it back in their faces when they shove it off the edge. 

Bucky would later insist that Steve was the one who started it. 

Steve would feign innocence and blame it on the wind. 

Either way, Bucky catches an entire shovelful of snow right in the face and falls back against the roof with a heavy thud, dropping several expletives that would make a sailor blush. 

When he gets the snow cleaned out of his eyes and catches one look of Steve doubled over in laughter it’s all the motivation Bucky needs to tackle him back into the snow on the roof, using his hands to scoop handfuls of the cold powder and dump it right on his face.

Which results in a wrestling match that manages to dislodge and knock much of the remaining snow off the roof – and their shovels. 

They roll off the roof and land in one of the miniature snow mountains they had created in the back yard during their roof cleaning adventure, sending a cloud of powder up into the air like they’d landed in a mess of flour. 

They’re both soaked to the skin at this point and Bucky’s hair is caked with snow but they’re both laughing, grabbing at one another for lazy, chilly kisses. Steve’s hand is just starting to snake playfully down the front of Bucky’s jeans when a dry, amused cough from the porch interrupts them, and they turn to see Sam standing in the doorway of the slider with a raised eyebrow and a steaming mug in his hand.

“Whenever you boys are done ‘shoveling’, I made hot chocolate,” Sam said pointedly and Bucky can almost hear the doubtful air quotes around the word. 

Hot chocolate did sound pretty good once he realized how cold he was and Steve seemed to agree because he sat up and pulled them both up onto their feet. 

They leave their wet clothes in the bathroom but while Steve elects to change into a dry pair of jeans and a sweater Bucky decides to lounge completely naked on the couch, propped up on the arm rest with his long legs crossed across Sam’s lap. 

Bucky drinks his hot chocolate without so much as blinking in their direction despite the fact he can feel two pairs of hungry eyes roaming over bare skin. He soaks up the attention like a sponge, though, and his cock is responding quite enthusiastically to the matching, wanting stares he’s receiving. 

“Only if we fuck in front of the fire,” he says finally, setting his empty mug down on the coffee table and cocking his head at Steve, inviting. 

Steve almost trips over his own feet as he goes to find the lube in their bedroom and Sam drops his pants and boxers the second he’s standing up, sinking onto his knees in front of the fire beside Bucky so he can pull the other man in for a devouring kiss. Bucky’s only just pressed Sam back into the carpet so he can suck his cock when Steve reappears from the bedroom with the lube in one hand and a scrap of red and black fabric in the other that immediately peaks Bucky’s interest.

“Oh?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin. Steve’s cheek flush a faint pink before he tosses the fabric towards Bucky and when Sam notices what he’s brought a smirk spreads across his face, slow and sweet like honey.

“Fuck yes. Put them on, sweetheart. Wanna watch Steve fuck you in your pretty panties,” Sam growled and who was Bucky to deny them when they asked so nicely?

He leans back so he can pull the lace and silk up his legs, lifting his hips to settle it neat and snug against his skin, reaching down to adjust himself behind the black silk of the crotch, fingers brushing across the rich red lace that made up the rest of the panties. They felt soft as air against his skin and Bucky can’t help but rub himself a little through the buttery silk. They were his favorite pair, a gift from Sam only a few days after they had come home with Bucky’s first corset.

“Gonna shove them aside and fuck me, Stevie?” Bucky asked in a low, rumbling voice, his eyelids drooping and head tipping coyly to the side, watching heatedly as Steve yanked his own clothing off fast enough to give himself whiplash. 

Strong hands grip at his lace clad hips and twist him over onto his belly, a hot mouth leaving biting kisses on his shoulders that will bruise deliciously. 

“I’m gonna fuck you in your pretty underwear, Bucky, while you suck Sam off nice and slow, and if you’re good and don’t come until we tell you to then you can ride his dick once I’m done with you,” Steve snarled against his spine, making Bucky’s hips jump forward and his cock throb against the silk. Sam’s pupils are blown wide with lust and he drags Bucky in for a hungry kiss while Steve yanks the thin strip of lace that would normally sit snugly up against the cleft of his ass aside so he can press a slick finger against the pucker of Bucky’s hole. 

It’s only by sheer force of will that he manages to get three fingers inside of Bucky at all because the sight of him and Sam trading slick, open mouthed kisses was enough to weaken the resolve of any man. Bucky always liked his kisses filthy and loud and the sight of Sam licking his way past Bucky’s lips made Steve want to abandon his task and take his turn chasing the lingering flavor of both men on the other’s tongue. 

Bucky only breaks the kiss when Steve finally pulls his fingers out of him with a wet sound, shoving Sam’s t-shirt up so he can lean down and suck bruises into the rippling muscle of his abdomen. Not that Sam really needed more bruises but Bucky liked seeing the marks of possession on their bodies as much as he liked them covering his own. 

“Hurry up and fuck me, soldier boy. I ain’t got all day,” he growls breathlessly against Sam’s hipbone, rocking his ass pointedly back against Steve’s groin to draw him back from where he’d been kneeling mutely and watching the way Bucky’s teeth and tongue flashed across the soft skin of Sam’s stomach. 

“I was enjoying the show,” Steve snorted, rubbing the tip of his cock teasingly against the twitching rim of Bucky’s hole. Sam’s laugh catches in his throat when Bucky’s tongue swipes across the head of his cock, hot and slick and promising more to come.

“Just fuck the man, Rogers, and stop being a shitty little cocktease,” Sam groans, reaching down to bury his fingers in Bucky’s hair in an attempt to guide his mouth where he wants it to be. Bucky smirks devilishly and trails a cool metal digit up the underside of his cock, chasing the lingering chill with his tongue. 

Sam knows the instant Steve’s finally pushing his way inside because the smirk on Bucky’s face vanishes, replaced by fluttering eyes and a twisted expression of need, gasping wetly against Sam’s cock as he’s stretched and split open by the heavy weight of Steve filling him up. 

Bucky was always the prettiest thing when he was being fucked and that was before he started wearing panties and corsets to bed. 

“Feel so good when you’re stuffed full of cock, don’t you sweetheart?” Sam croons, cupping his hand against Bucky’s cheek while the other holds his cock steady, rubbing the tip inviting against Bucky’s mouth. He nearly comes on the spot when Bucky’s tongue darts out to lick away the sheen of precome that stains his lips, his expression desperate. Like he wanted nothing more than to suck Sam’s cock. 

“Open up for me.”

Sam knows Steve is waiting for Bucky’s body to adjust to being filled up and Sam takes the opportunity to guide his cock between Bucky’s lips, feeding it to him until Bucky’s nose is buried in the wiry curls at the base. 

Bless super soldiers with no gag reflex. 

“Get it nice and wet for me, Bucky, so I can fuck you once Steve’s done with you.”

Sam’s glad he’s laying down on the plush carpeting because he’s pretty sure he’d end up with a second concussion anywhere else after his head whips back at the hot suction of Bucky’s throat swallowing around the head of his cock. 

The vibration of Bucky’s moan shoots up Sam’s spine and he knows that Steve’s started fucking him. Sam can hear the slap of sweat damp flesh and opens his eyes so he can watch, admiring the twist of concentration of pleasure the blond haired man is wearing as he snaps his hips forward against Bucky’s ass, his fingers digging bruises into Bucky’s skin. Sam can feel the silk rub of Bucky’s underwear against his calves and slyly presses his leg up between Bucky’s, grinding it into the achingly hard bulge of his cock.

“Remember, Bucky. No coming until we say you can,” Sam says breathlessly, watching the way Bucky tries to nod around a mouthful of Sam’s cock. He’s gripping the base of Sam’s cock to hold it steady so he can fuck his throat down around the length, pulling off after a few deep swallows to place suckling kisses up the length. There’s the careful scrape of teeth against the vein that Bucky knows Sam likes and Sam groans, shoving his leg up against Bucky’s cock. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Want you to come with my cock down your throat and Steve fucking you through it,” Sam orders, hips thrusting upwards when Bucky eagerly swallows his cock back down to the base, shuddering as his orgasm ripples through him. Sam can hear Steve swearing as he slows the rapid snap of his fucking so he can grind himself deep into Bucky, rocking him through his first orgasm of the night. Bucky has to pull back from Sam’s cock so he can pant wetly against his thigh and Sam strokes his hair as he comes down from the high of pleasure, thumb rubbing against swollen, spit shiny lips. 

“You need a second, Buck?” Steve asks, going still inside of Bucky when the man nods, still trying to catch his breath as he shifts around Steve’s cock, feeling the sticky wetness of the silk against his sensitive cock. 

Sam knows when he’s ready for more when Bucky turns to mouth at the fingers tracing his mouth, giving Steve a nod that gets his hips moving against Bucky’s ass once more. Bucky waits for Sam to crawl out from under them and kneel in front of him before he opens his mouth for Sam to feed him his cock again.

This time he holds still, relaxed and eager, so Sam can fuck his mouth, breathing hard through his nose as the heavy flesh hits the back of his throat each time Sam rocks forward. He doesn’t thrust nearly as hard as Steve currently is behind Bucky and when Sam leans over him to curl a hand under his body and rub across his nipple Bucky can’t help but moan appreciatively around Sam’s cock, shivering at the fingers that pinch and pluck the sensitive bud. 

He can already feel his cock throbbing in the wet silk panties once more and he opens his mouth a fraction wider around Sam’s cock, head tipping back to let him fuck deeper down his throat. Each time Steve fucked into him with a particularly hard thrust it would shove him forward against Sam, into the cock that’s buried in his throat. Bucky loved nothing more than to be exactly where he was, cradled between the two of them and anchored to the present by their touch. It made him feel safe; _wanted_.

“M’gonna come inside you, Bucky, and when I say so I want you to come, too,” Steve orders, leaning across Bucky to capture Sam’s mouth in a burning kiss, one hand carefully cradling his head while the other continues to pull Bucky back onto his cock. 

He lasts two more deep, brutal thrusts before he’s hitting his peak, growling against Sam’s mouth for Bucky to come. The way Bucky’s body shudders and tightens as he comes spurs Steve onto even greater heights of pleasure and he fucks them both through their orgasms, only pulling out when both of their bodies teeter on the edge of oversensitive. 

Bucky’s loose limbed and pliant when Sam grips his thighs and rolls him over onto his back, spreading his legs for Sam to fit his way between them. Sam likes fucking Bucky after Steve’s already made him come a few times because Bucky opens up so beautifully when he’s already fucked out and sated, his body slick and welcoming around Sam’s cock. 

His mouth is clumsy against Sam’s when they kiss and Bucky moans weakly as Sam fucks him slow and deep, Steve’s come slicking the way. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, now, when Sam hits his prostate and Bucky whimpers, pressing into Sam’s ass, seeking out the aching burn of too much too soon that feels just this side of good. 

Bucky watches Sam and Steve trade lazy kisses above him, shivering at the pleasure singing through his veins at the sight of them together. Bucky cups his right hand against his cock to rub the come soaked silk against the aching flesh, fixated on the flash of tongue and teeth as Sam and Steve kiss filthy and wet even as Sam continues to fuck Bucky. 

“Please. I need-“ Bucky whimpers, rubbing himself off against his palm through the thin clinging silk of his underwear. Sam and Steve break apart to look down at him and smirk, Sam snapping his hips hard against Bucky’s ass while Steve reaches down to replace Bucky’s hand with his own.

“You can come once Sam comes,” Steve murmurs agreeably, jerking Bucky off with the wet silk as Sam starts to fuck him with the desperate abandon that comes with being close to the edge of a long awaited release. 

Bucky nods and reaches up to pull them both in for a desperate kiss, shuddering at the inevitable messiness of trying to kiss two men at the same time. Sam and Steve taste like one another and like Bucky all at once. 

Bucky muffles a strangled whimper of need. 

There’s barely a split second between Sam’s hips stilling against his ass and the recognizable rush of wet heat inside him before Bucky’s coming for the final time that night, his body quivering with the knife edge rush of pleasure-pain, moans silence by Steve’s mouth pressed hot and searching against his own. 

He feels like he’s floating as he sprawls back against the carpet and doesn’t make a single argument when Steve is peeling the come stained underwear off of him and cleans the sweat from his skin with a warm washcloth. Sam helps him sit up so he can drink the entire glass of juice that Steve brings him, murmuring soft words of praise and affection against his ear the entire time.

“Any chance of more hot chocolate and leftover pizza?” Bucky hums against Sam’s throat, his eyes glued shut and his arms draped lazily around the former Airman’s shoulders, relaxing as Steve’s fingers rub the soreness out of his muscles.

“Yeah, I think that can probably be arranged.”

Bucky thinks that if every shoveling adventure could end in fantastic sex by the fire then he’d definitely be far more enthusiastic about that particular chore.


	7. Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky thinks the internet is probably the most wonderful invention of the modern era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Elf
> 
> Just a little ficlet today, I pulled a double shift that started at 6am this morning and I'm exhausted.

Bucky thinks the internet is a strange and wonderful place. He spends a lot of time cooped up in the house when Sam has work and Steve is off volunteering or assisting the struggling Shield with a mission and the internet has quickly become one of his best friends. There was just so many things you could find right at your fingertips and he loved the ease with which he could look up just about anything.

Modern technology was so convenient. What Bucky wouldn’t have given to have the internet when he was back in school. 

Today Steve has gone with Sam to the VA to help him run his group therapy session and while there’s always a standing invitation for Bucky to join them he never takes them up on the offer. His demons are a little too dark for something like that and there was really no way to talk about them without the risk of someone catching onto who he might be. The group therapy sessions were important to the veterans that came to the VA seeking help and Bucky didn’t want to feel like he was usurping their traumas with his own incomparable nightmares.

Besides, he already had his own therapist and, between her and with Sam’s and Steve’s help, Bucky had his ways of coping with and coming to terms with what he’d been through without further traumatizing a group of PTSD diagnosed vets with horror stories of torture, degradation, and isolation.

When Sam and Steve leave for the VA he sends a video chat request to his therapist for his weekly appointment, eternally grateful to Pepper for finding him someone that not only had security clearance but was also willing to meet with him over Skype, rather than in a public place or at an office. They talk about the nightmares and the upsetting day he’d had when Sam had hurt himself and the hours spent in the hospital. She made him promise to sit down with Sam and Steve and talk about how it makes him feel when they takes unnecessary risks and, despite feeling a little drained afterwards, Bucky’s smiling. Considering where he had been only a year ago he thinks that only feeling tired after a therapy session rather than upset or angry or confused is a huge step in the right direction for him. 

He spends the rest of the day in a pair of plain green cotton panties and one of Steve’s hoodies, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch while he taps absently through Youtube for new compilation videos of something Sam said are called ‘Vines’. Bucky didn’t quite understand them, but, the seven second clips are almost always hilarious and he can’t get enough of them. 

He’s distracted, though, by a video that pops up on the side of the one he just watched and clicks on it, amused at the cartoonish scene that pops up on the screen. The faces are awkward cut outs of celebrities from some new movie Bucky remembers seeing advertised on TV and he watches with confused fascination as they began to dance jerkily to the squeaky Christmas song being played. At the end of the video there’s a link to create your own ‘dancing elf movie’ and he clicks it, pulling up the brightly colored website. 

Before he can really think too hard about it an evil idea hatches in his mind and he pulls up Sam’s photo album on the desktop, clicking through the various pictures he had taken the last time they visited Stark Tower for Tony’s birthday. 

After carefully selecting the best photos he can find, he uploads them to the server and clicks to the next step, where he’s prompted to pick a scene and song from the list provided. He listens to each of the songs before settling on the obvious choice, the ‘Charleston’, hoping that would add a subtle smirk and middle finger that could only come from Bucky. 

The video attaches itself to an email once it finishes saving and Bucky sends it to everyone he can think of, closing the laptop and rolling over onto his back to wait. Sure enough, hardly a minute goes by before his phone goes off, blasting Nikki Minaj’s “Boss Ass Bitch” from the coffee table. 

Bucky picks it up and thumbs open the lock, grinning when the text pops up on his screen.

Natasha: you’re such a dick

Bucky: aww but you, Clint, Tony, Steve, and Sam look so cute as elves :))))

Natasha: this is a dangerous game to play with me, James

Bucky: I’m not terribly worried 

Natasha: you ass how many people did you send this video to

Bucky: only about forty of our closest friends

Natasha: go choke on a dick

Bucky: gonna do that later I gotta wait for Sam and Steve to get home first

Natasha: I hate you

Bucky: ya tozhe tyebya lyublyu, printsesa

The conversation shifts from there and Natasha asks how Sam is healing, and about Bucky’s nightmares. He’s relieved to get to talk to someone who isn’t his therapist, who he feels often handles him with kid gloves, or Steve and Sam, who definitely handle him with kid gloves. He knows Natasha will give it to him straight without the sugar coating and after texting back and forth for close to an hour she says goodbye, pointing out that she now has about forty emails to hack into before the end of the night. 

The internet is such a strange and wonderful place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you weren't already aware, the website Bucky uses is elfyourself.com. ;)
> 
> ya tozhe tyebya lyublyu, printsesa - I love you, too, Princess
> 
> Russian translation from Google, sorry if I just murdered your language!
> 
> Bucky and Natasha being BFFs is kinda my jam so expect her to pop up again in the future.


	8. Fruitcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's mom sends her boys a Christmas care package and some enjoy it more than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Fruitcake

Bucky hates that he still can’t handle the sound of someone knocking on the front door. There’s something about the heavy way it echoes that is uncomfortably reminiscent of the pounding of a fist against the reinforced glass of his cryo tube. 

Sam and Steve don’t question it when he gets up and leaves the breakfast table as the mailman raps his knuckles on the front door. He crawls between the still warm sheets of their bed and does the counting exercises his therapist taught him to keep him from spiraling into a dissociative episode at times like these, hoping that they’ll help; he really doesn’t want to lose an entire day hiding in the bedroom. 

Five things he can see – well, there was the pillow under his head, and Sam’s photos on the wall of his family, and Bucky’s clothes from last night on the floor where he left them. Steve’s sketchpad was on the dresser, and Sam’s running shoes were by the bedroom door.

Four things he can hear are Sam and Steve talking in the other room, the faint noise of cartoons playing on the television in the living room, his own breathing, and the rustle of the sheets when he rolls onto his side.

Three things he can feel are the blankets, his t-shirt, and the fading warmth where he’d been curled up in bed with Sam and Steve only half an hour ago.

Two things he can smell include the fabric softener Bucky used when he washed their bedding the other day, and the scent of Steve’s shampoo clinging to the pillow under his cheek. 

One thing he can taste is the bacon and egg omelet he’d been eating before he’d gotten up and left the kitchen.

Bucky takes a deep breath when he finishes his list and already feels better. More centered and definitely better grounded in the present than he had been before. He supposes this is what they’re paying Carina for, after all, to help Bucky learn ways to cope with living a normal life. 

Steve and Sam don’t comment when he slides back into his chair at the kitchen table and resumes eating his breakfast, but, Steve does reach out to slide his hand over Bucky’s and squeeze it gently, a small smile on his face to let him know he’s proud of Bucky.

“What was the special delivery?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of eggs and cheese, watching as Sam grimaces into the open box before him.

“The most terrible gift I receive every single year,” Sam says with a dramatic flourish of his hand, shoving the box across the table to an amused Steve and flummoxed Bucky. 

Bucky stands up so he can peer into the box and is confused when all he sees is a neatly packed metal tin with a post it note on the top that says ‘Made with love (so don’t you throw it away this time, Samuel Thomas Wilson, because I will find out) and all the cheer of the holidays for my favorite boys. XOXO Mom’. 

Bucky reaches in to pluck the lid off the tin and stares, perplexed, at what seems to be-

“A fruitcake?” Steve asks, leaning over Bucky so he can catch a glimpse of the contents. The smell of rum and powdered sugar wafts up from the box and Bucky’s mouth twists into a grin even as Sam hides his face in his hands. 

“She makes one for me every year and every year I beg her not to because it just sits on the top of my fridge until it goes hard as a brick and I throw it out because I hate fruitcake. I really, _really_ hate fruitcake.”

Bucky stares at Sam in open mouthed dismay and he can feel Steve expressing equal distress from beside him even as his arms fold protectively over the top of the shipping box.

“How can you hate fruitcake? Every slice is like an entire meal!” Bucky protests, dipping his head down so he can take a deep breath and smell the spicy sweetness of the rum soaked cake. Steve’s Mom used to make a fruitcake every Christmas with the odds and ends of nuts, candies, and dried fruits she’d have leftover at the end of the year from her baking supplies. If someone gave you a fruitcake it was like getting edible gold, especially during the Depression. Fruitcake had gotten them through many a hard winter after Sarah Rogers passed away and they were on their own. 

Sam gawked as Bucky reached in to pull off a chunk and handed it to Steve, taking a piece for himself and popping it into his mouth. It tasted strongly of amaretto and cinnamon and Bucky sighed, grinning from ear to ear as he chewed and swallowed.

“Can your Mom make more, would she mind?”

Sam just shakes his head and puts his head down on the table while Steve and Bucky enthusiastically enjoy the fruit cake straight out the box, fearing for the day when his Mother finally meets the two men in Sam’s life and wondering if it was too late to just relocate to the Moon.


	9. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wants to do something special for Sam and Steve to thank them for opening their door and their lives to him. 
> 
> What's more special than lingerie and cookies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Cookies
> 
> This chapter is an homage to and inspired by the amazing ["There's My Territory"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2202087%0A) by Dira Sudis. If you love Bucky in stockings and OT3 then I strongly recommend that fic because it's easily my favorite fic in the entire universe.

Bucky wants to make something nice for Sam and Steve, something to thank them being patient with him over these long months and for not shutting the door in his face when he showed up on the porch, soaked to the skin from the rain and bleeding.

They had been good to him and now he wanted to be good to them, too. 

So he waits until they’ve both left for Sam’s follow up appointment to make sure the gash on the back of his head is healing without complications and pulls out Sam’s laptop, browsing the internet for ideas.

There was always sex, but, Bucky didn’t really feel like having sex tonight. His body was still a little achy from the other night and he could imagine that Sam would be sore and tired after his visit to the Doctor. He could wear that nice blue and silver corset Steve got him last month, with the matching stockings and underwear… but that didn’t really feel like enough to Bucky. 

So he settles on making cookies. He knows right where Sam keeps his Gram’s old recipes, too, and digs through the cupboard for a moment before finding the little box of index cards, flicking through them until he comes to one detailing a recipe for gingerbread cookies. The ingredients list is dauntingly long but the instructions seem simple enough, so, Bucky sets the oven to preheat and starts collecting the many items he’ll need, hoping that the two men stay gone long enough for them to cook.

Luckily Bucky had done enough cooking in the past few months that he’s familiar with the setup of Sam’s kitchen and the places where everything is kept. Cooking was something easy and methodical, not to mention distracting. Bucky liked the neat regimen of being able to set a goal, follow a list of instructions, and produce a result. It gave him a task to complete when his mind threatened to run wild on him and it had kept him from losing control on numerous occasions.

And Bucky loved to cook, especially for Sam and Steve. 

A car backfires in the street and Bucky slams himself down onto the floor of the kitchen, his heart racing and his metal hand curled into a fist, the flesh one trembling against the tile as his mind struggled to catch up to the present. He was in his home, the one he had made with Sam and Steve, who would be home within the hour. They would eat cookies on the couch that Bucky made special for them. Sam would stroke his hair and tell him everything was okay and Steve would kiss him and promise that Hydra would never hurt him ever again. 

It takes several long minutes but Bucky finally manages to talk himself down off the edge of his own impending panic attack, forcing himself to focus on the smell of sugar and cinnamon rather than the sound of his own blood roaring in his eardrums. He feels brave enough to come up off the floor and steadies himself on the counter with a hand that’s still trembling, turning his attention to taking deep, even breaths. 

He can’t hear anything, anymore, except the clicking sound of the oven and the hum of the refrigerator. No stomping boots, no metallic noises of guns and buckles. Bucky was alone and Hydra wasn’t here. 

“Cookies,” he tells himself firmly, taking one more deep breath before he reaches for the cookie tray where the round blobs of dough are waiting to spread and bake. 

When the cookies are in the oven, filling the house with the warm feeling of cooking food, Bucky sets the timer and makes his way down the hall to the bedroom with determined steps, pulling that pretty blue and silver number they’re all so fond of. He had been hesitant about wearing it earlier, but, right now he needed the steadying support of the silk against his skin. 

Sam liked the corset so much he once joked about buying Bucky a full length dress to go with it. 

Bucky still wasn’t sure about how that made him feel, but, the idea did intrigue him. His face was far too masculine to really pull it off and his body was all hard muscle and angles where most women had soft curves and supple skin, not to mention the monstrous bionic arm he was sporting, but he wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea of at least trying it in their own home. He was still learning about this side of him that liked the feeling of silk and lace wrapped tight around his body. His therapist said it was most likely the feeling of control that Bucky liked when it came to wearing the corsets and stockings. Hydra had taken everything from him, stripped him to his core and rewired him to suit their needs.

But wearing the special clothing was something that was entirely his. He hadn’t done it before and it wasn’t something Hydra had taken from him, or ever would. Bucky still felt disconnected to the man he had been before Hydra, even if he had all of his memories, and he desperately wished to disassociate himself from the Winter Soldier entirely. The corsets were something he had chosen, of his own volition, without any connection to the man he once was or the monster Hydra had created, and Bucky had control over what he chose to wear and when. After Hydra spent seventy years owning every single aspect of Bucky’s life this was finally something Bucky could take for himself. 

There was something to be said for the relaxing feeling of getting himself ready that was both familiar and welcome. He took the cookies out of the oven and set them on the wire rack to cool while he showered, carefully shaving his legs and his groin both ways so nothing would catch on the silk of his stockings. Whatever Hydra had injected him with had stunted the growth of hair on his upper body, so, he didn’t have to shave his chest or underarms, but he pays strict attention to scrubbing every bit of himself clean, careful not to nick himself as he shaves the faint stubble dotting his cheeks. 

When he returns to the bedroom he makes sure to smooth everything over with the slippery smooth lotion he had gotten to ward off the uncomfortable prickle of razor burn and the morning after itch of growing hair. It smelled like sandalwood and lavender and now so did Bucky. 

On go the stockings and panties, pulled up snug and secure before he wraps the corset around himself, starting at the bottom with the silver silk ribbon lacing and working his way up. He liked this one because it laced at the front instead of the back, making it easier for Bucky to dress himself. As much as he enjoyed Sam or Steve’s fingers plucking at the laces he liked being able to do this on his own even more.

Perhaps his therapist wasn’t entirely off the mark when she said Bucky liked the chance to have control over something in his life, even if it was something as small as lacing up his own corset. 

Privately Bucky knew he also liked the snug way the silk and sturdy steel ribbing of the corset felt around his chest. It made him feel safe and contained, being wrapped up in the tightly laced fabric, and while Sam and Steve didn’t really understand that particular aspect they didn’t do anything to dissuade Bucky from doing whatever it was that made him happy. 

Bucky already feels more relaxed even with the lacing only half done, the tension bleeding out of his muscles with every tug and pull of the silk ribbon, threaded through silver eyelets to keep it from slipping. He could hardly remember what had made him so upset earlier, not with the steadying hug of the corset around his rib cage.

The thud of the front door slamming shut makes him aware of Sam and Steve’s return and he smiles, tying the lacing in a bow at the top of the corset and taking one steadying moment to smooth the metal of his prosthetic hand down the front before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way down the hall, neatly combed hair still curling damply around his shoulders. 

“You made cookies you are officially my favorite person in the entire-“

Steve trails off mid-sentence when he turns away from the rack of cookies and catches sight of Bucky standing in the entry way, dolled up as he was in silver and blue. 

“World,” he finishes lamely, eyes sweeping over Bucky like he was the most delicious thing he’d seen all day. Sam is equally dumbstruck beside him, a cookie held in his hand but long since forgotten. 

“Wanted to do something nice for you,” Bucky said quietly, his footsteps silent as he crossed the kitchen and plucked the cookie from between Sam’s fingers so he can press it to Sam’s mouth.

“Do you like it?”

Sam parted his lips to allow the gingerbread between them and takes a bite, smiling as he chews it slowly, savoring the spicy sweet flavor of the cookie. 

“How can we not love coming home to the sight of you all pretty and wrapped up like a Christmas present for us?” Steve chuckled, leaning in to press a small kiss to the pulse point behind Bucky’s ear. 

They move to the couch so Sam can sit down and rest his aching back and Bucky guides Steve to settle in beside him before he straddles his lap, the cookies in a tin resting on his knees. He takes turns feeding them the gingerbread, letting their hands brush over the silk and lace of his corset and sighing at the comfortable burn of pleasure in the pit of his belly. It makes him feel good to be able to take care of them this way. 

There are gentle kisses between cookies and while those exploring fingers brush over the snug lace of his panties they don’t push for anything more than that, simply feeling and enjoying the smoothness of Bucky’s skin and the way he feels wrapped up in soft silks. Bucky doesn’t want to have sex tonight. Bucky just wants to wear his pretty things and feed Sam and Steve cookies and the other two have picked up on that without him having to say it out loud, much to his relief. 

A lot of the time, sure, wearing his nice things led to sex, but, often enough Bucky did it because it made him feel more stable and at ease when he’d had a bad day. The snug pressure of the corset around his chest and the reassuring whisper of silk against smooth skin were comforting in their newfound familiarity. It took the edge off his constant fear of Hydra returning to take him away and infuse his mind, instead, with a soothing nothingness that Bucky could then fill with Sam and Steve. 

And it helped that the pair of them always looked at Bucky like he was the only thing they ever wanted to see for the rest of their lives when he came out of the bedroom wrapped in silk and lace.

When Bucky goes to feed Steve another cookie the man shakes his head, chuckling, and rests his hands on the narrow hourglass of Bucky’s waist, thumbs rubbing at the delicately embroidered blue silk.

“It’s the last one and the cook should have it,” Steve murmurs, taking the cookie and breaking it in half so he and Sam can take turns feeding it to Bucky in little bites. It tastes like sugar and cinnamon and Bucky licks his lips when the cookie is done, wishing now that he’d made more. He got so wrapped up in how nice it felt to take care of them that he forgot how nice it felt when he let them take care of him, too.

He sighs as Sam and Steve tug him in to curl up between them, resting his cheek against Sam’s thigh while Steve reads and Sam watches the tv. He feels sleepy and sated on their affectionate touches and soft kisses and he let his eyes drift shut to drink in the comb of Sam’s fingers through his hair and the rub of Steve’s palm up and down his stockinged thigh. Bucky didn’t have to worry about Hydra tonight.

“You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart,” Sam murmured, bringing a drowsy smile to Bucky’s lips, reaching out to affectionately pat Sam’s knee, much like how one placates a toddler when they point out the obvious.

“I know.”


	10. Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a terrible dream and there's sleepy morning sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Carols
> 
> Inspired by this prompt: Person A, who is not wild about Christmas, wakes up from a dream in which Person B was dancing around singing “Frosty the Snowman” while dressed in a snowman costume. OT3 Bonus: Person C was in the dream as well, as a child or as the the traffic cop.
> 
> I tweaked it a bit as you'll notice and there's not really any carols but it's the thought that counts.

Sam watches in abject horror as Bucky, grinning from ear to ear and dressed up as that weird talking snowman from the Disney movie they’d watched the night before, skips through a forest of frozen trees. There’s a carrot on his nose by some weird twist of dream magic and Steve is there with reindeer antlers protruding from his hair, arms folded over his chest and a pout on his face. 

“Isn’t the snow beautiful, Sam?” Bucky sighed, spinning beneath a drooping willow tree with his arms outstretched. The metal one has been replaced with a skinny branch and Sam doesn’t quite know how to process that. 

“It’s… something,” Sam agrees slowly, eyes wide as Bucky skips his way by a scowling Steve.

“I always wondered what it’d be like to see it all melt into summer. Doesn’t summer just sound magical, Sam? I’ve always wanted to know what summer is like.”

Bucky pauses and grins before opening his mouth wide, hands spreading out on either side of him.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Buck-“

“Bees’ll buzz. Kids’ll blow dandelion buzz. And I’ll be doing whatever snow does in summer!” Bucky trills, leaping into a snow drift and rolling a deep track through the fine white powder. 

Sam wants to scream in horror but finds himself struck dumb, unable to tear his gaze from the terrifying sight unfolding before him. 

“A drink in my hand, my snow up against the burning sand, probably getting gorgeously tanned in summer!”

Bucky throws himself into Sam’s arms with that same frightening grin on his lips and the scratching wood of his left hand digging into Sam’s neck. 

“Don’t you wanna build a snowman with me, Sam?”

Sam jolts upright in the bed with a strangled yelp, his hand flying out to punch away a specter that’s no longer there. It takes him a few seconds to reorient himself and when he finally realizes he’s back in the safety of his bedroom he all but sinks back into the pillows, his heart racing and eyes wide open. 

“Mm, Sammy, go back to bed, s’too early to go running,” Bucky mumbles, his beautiful, wonderful, amazingly human shaped and not at all wooden and stick like metal arm sliding over Sam’s stomach to try and keep him from moving. Sam can see Steve plastered to Bucky’s back with his face buried between his shoulder blades, his hair a tangled, sleepy mess but otherwise blessedly antler free. 

He sighs with relief and reaches up to slide his hand over Bucky’s, relishing the chill of the metal more than he ever had before. He never thought that the prosthetic could actually be grounding.

“M’not going anywhere, sweetheart, I promise,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head that gets a pleased little sound rumbling in his throat. Steve grunts and rolls over so his back is to them, decidedly unamused by the conversation that threatened to wake him up. 

Sam ignores his grumping in favor of nudging a finger under Bucky’s chin so he can tilt his face up for a proper kiss, nuzzling their lips together. He can feel Bucky’s panties when he slides his hand down his spine, trailing his palm along the soft edging of lace and silk. The corset had come off so Bucky could sleep more comfortably, but, the panties and stockings were still there and it sent a secret thrill of pleasure through Sam. 

This definitely couldn’t be a dream because only the real Bucky could make those delicious little noises when Sam cupped his ass and squeezed. The sleepy man lets Sam tug him on top and buries his face in Sam’s neck as he hitches Bucky’s groin against his own, rubbing them together to create a wonderful friction through the fabric of their clothing. 

Bucky’s clumsy fingers are plucking at the elastic of Sam boxers so he can free his cock, lifting his hips just enough so Sam can do the same for him. He shivers at the teasing swipe of a fingertip across his hole when Sam slides his hands beneath the panties to grip at the globes of his ass, using that hold to pull their cocks together in a wonderful grind of hot flesh. They go still like teenagers caught making out when Steve stirs beside them only to dissolve into silent, drowsy laughter that ends in lazy, sloppy kisses, Bucky licking his way into Sam’s mouth as they rock their bodies together. 

“Want you in me, Sam,” Bucky sighs against his lips and Sam chuckles when a bottle of lube is pressed into his hand and Bucky’s rolling them so he can be on the bottom. Sam takes a minute to drink in the intoxicating sight of Bucky spread out beneath him with his panties around his thighs and a pink flush spreading across his chest, visible even in the dim light of the early morning. 

“Almost don’t wanna take ‘em off you, you look so pretty in them,” Sam murmurs, sliding the panties down Bucky’s legs and setting them carefully on the bedside table. They were Bucky’s favorite and there’d be no good in getting them dusty or dirty by tossing them on the floor. 

Bucky grins and pulls Sam between his spread thighs for a warm kiss, rolling his hips up against Sam’s invitingly.

“I know but it makes it harder for you to fuck me if they’re on.”

They trade languid, open mouthed kisses as Sam opens Bucky up on his fingers, both trying not to be too loud and wake Steve. Not that Steve would be angry if he woke and found they’d started without him, but, Bucky was enjoying his lazy morning with Sam. They’d make it up to Steve later, when he wasn’t still trying to sleep off the bank robbery he’d intervened in the other day and the stress of Sam’s injuries. Besides, Bucky knows Steve got to fuck Sam in the shower yesterday before they left for Sam’s appointment and it’s definitely Bucky’s turn to have Sam to himself for a while. 

Bucky bites his lip when Sam’s fingers slide out of him and the head of his cock is nudging against Bucky’s entrance, muffling the keening little noise of want that threatens to spill from him. 

“Please,” is all he says, forced out between his lips in a desperate little puff of air, his hands gentle as they slide up Sam’s bruised back.

Sam kisses him to muffle any more sounds that might want to escape him when he presses inside, his forearms pressed into the mattress in an attempt to keep his weight off Bucky. Bucky, however, is having none of that, and it doesn’t take much effort for him to get Sam to lay down fully on top of him, their bodies pressed together in every conceivable way.

Sam’s cock is nudging deliciously against Bucky’s prostate and he sighs at the wonderful feeling of fullness that always comes with having sex with Sam and Steve. Like a puzzle piece he’d always been missing finally slotting into place. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Sam asks him, mouthing the words against Bucky’s throat as he gives an experimental little rock of his hips. Sam’s hands are ghosting up the softness of Bucky’s stocking clad calves and Bucky sighs, nodding, relishing the warmth of his palms even through the silk.

“Couldn’t be better,” he whispered into Sam’s mouth, hitching his legs around his hips to try and urge him to move. 

Bucky’s pretty sure they can’t really call it fucking when he doesn’t let Sam pull away from him. They don’t kiss so much as they share air as Sam rocks their hips together, never withdrawing himself from the warmth of Bucky’s body enough to even thrust. It’s comfortable and lazy and Bucky relishes it, careful of the healing gash on the back of Sam’s head as he pulls him close, panting softly against his mouth. 

Sam can’t even remember what had woken him up with such urgency when Bucky is so pliant and fucked out beneath him, his insides quivering hot and tight around his cock. Bucky always came apart so easily when they had sex in the morning, opening up like a dream to every touch and press of fingers and tongue. 

He lived for waking up to Sam or Steve biting soft kisses into the supple flesh of his ass and thighs, always fell apart beautifully beneath them. 

Today is no exception. 

Even in the murky darkness of the morning Sam can see Bucky’s peaking pleasure in the way his lips part in a silent moan and the sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. He’s close and Sam kisses him to swallow the needy little whimper he knows is coming, grinding his hips against Bucky’s ass. 

He pulls back long enough so Bucky can roll over onto his stomach, not letting him get his knees under him before he’s pressing him back down into the mattress, blanketing his body over the smaller man’s and guiding his cock to press back inside of Bucky. 

Bucky muffles his sigh into the pillow and Sam slides his hands over the tops of Bucky’s so he can tangle their fingers together, rolling himself down against the swell of Bucky’s ass. 

Not too many months ago Bucky couldn’t even bear to think about Sam or Steve pinning him down on the bed, or anywhere, like this. Now Bucky welcomed it and relished it because he long since stopped seeing it as being held down and embraced it as being shielded, wanted, and protected. It made him feel safe to be covered in Sam and Steve this way, to be completely enveloped in their embrace as they had sex, or even just as they slept. 

Sam twists himself so he can find Bucky’s mouth in a clumsy kiss, digging his elbows into the mattress to gain enough leverage to rock into his body, knowing he’s found his prostate when Bucky stifles a needy moan. Sam can feel his own pleasure building and he chases it with a steady snap of his hips against Bucky’s ass, licking between Bucky’s lips to twine their tongues together in a sloppy, needy mess of a kiss. 

Bucky’s body goes tense and shuddery around Sam’s cock when he comes and he fucks the man beneath him through the powerful orgasm, clinging to Bucky’s hands as he rides out his own, pulsing deep inside of Bucky with each stuttered, needy thrust. 

He allows himself to go limp on top of Bucky, knowing the other man can bear his weight, and releases his right hand so he can slide it down the sweat slick skin of his side, feeling the way Bucky’s breathing is heavy as he comes down from his high. 

Sam lifts himself up just long enough for Bucky to roll over before he’s pressing between his thighs again to kiss him, wincing at the chill of the morning air hitting his over sensitized cock. He’s just contemplating the idea of burying himself back into the warmth of Bucky’s ass between gentle, sated kisses when a dry little cough from beside them startles them both. 

They turn to see Steve staring at them with a fond, rumpled expression on his face, lines still pressed into his cheek from his pillow.

“I gotta say this is by far the best way I’ve ever been woken up before the sun,” Steve chuckles, eagerly moving in when two pairs of hands are grabbing for him and pulling him closer. Morning breath be damned, Steve leans in first to kiss Bucky, licking his way into every corner of his mouth he can find before he turns to chase Sam’s lips, sighing at the flavor of both of them that lingers on the other’s tongue. 

“You’re both too good looking for such a disgustingly early hour,” Steve chuckles, his own arousal a comfortable afterthought at the back of his mind. It’s nice just to lay there for a while, trading kisses with Bucky and Sam in their bed as the sun finally starts to peek through the curtain, bathing them in orangey yellows. 

Steve is grinning when Bucky and Sam press him back against the mattress, scooting himself up enough so he can watch them both settle on their stomachs on either side of his thighs. Bucky’s the one that reaches up to pull his cock out of his underwear, tugging the waistband down just enough to leave it snug up under his balls, his erection almost painful after the lovely show he’d woken up to. 

He hadn’t been jealous – why should he be? He knew they weren’t excluding him. That he’d be welcome to join if he had expressed the desire to, rather than sitting back and watching them together. That was something that people often misunderstood about relationships like theirs. In a healthy one with the right amount of communication, jealousy really just wasn’t a thing. If one of them felt left out they sat down and talked about it, like in any normal two person relationship. 

If Sam came home from the VA to Steve and Bucky cuddling naked and sated in the bed he would grin and kiss them both hello before going to make dinner. If Bucky stumbled across Sam and Steve having sex in the shower then he’d just stand by the sink and brush his teeth with a smile on his face. And if Steve woke up to Sam rocking his hips against a whimpering Bucky then he’d lay there with a sleepy grin and admire just how beautiful they looked together in the morning light. 

No, Steve can’t really remember a time where they’d ever had an honest to goodness disagreement over someone feeling left out. Sure there were rough patches in the beginning, when Sam and Steve and Bucky became SamandSteveandBucky. They had still been learning where they all stood with one another. Where the lines were drawn in the sand.

It took them a few months to realize that there weren’t actually any lines at all. 

Steve bites his lip as Sam and Bucky lean in to kiss around his cock, mouths hot and wet against the painfully hard flesh, tongues sliding slickly together. They’d done this before but no one could really begrudge Steve his desire to commit the sight to memory, and later to paper, every time it happened.

“Buck, Sam - _Please,_ ” he whined, shivering as Sam mouthed his way down to suck one of Steve’s balls between his lips while Bucky pulled back the folds of Steve’s foreskin to swipe his tongue across the delicate frenulum, rubbing the cool metal of his thumb up and down the shaft. 

Steve has to fight to keep his head up so he can watch the way they both worship his cock and balls with licks and teasing nibbles, his hips jumping each time Sam releases his sac with a loud pop, only to suck them back between his lips. Bucky’s tonguing at the folds of his foreskin, letting the skin retract over his cock before sliding his tongue between the thin flesh and his crown, tugging it carefully with fingers and lips. Steve loved having his balls and foreskin played with much like how Bucky enjoyed it when they tormented his sensitive nipples, and this was knowledge that both men were more than happy to exploit.

Steve is careful of Sam’s stitches as he cups his hand at the back of his neck, burying a hand in Bucky’s hair to encourage both of them to get closer to his cock, spreading his legs obscenely wide to fit them both between his thighs rather than outside them.

A moan is transformed into a laugh when Sam starts tugging at his hips to cant his ass upwards more towards the pair of them, shivering at the teasing brush of Sam’s mouth against his perineum. Steve isn’t as sensitive as Bucky is in that area but he’s certainly not about to protest when Sam’s tongue is licking across the pucker of his entrance, groaning when it’s somehow perfectly timed with Bucky’s mouth enveloping the tip of his cock and giving a short, hard suck. Steve’s pretty sure they must have telepathic abilities because every stab of Sam’s tongue fucking against Steve’s hole is in a rhythmic tandem with Bucky’s sucking, the former assassin angling his head so he can take Steve’s cock further down his throat. 

This is definitely the best way to wake up and Steve has to consciously force himself not to thrust upwards and potentially hurt either one of them, shivering at the onslaught of sensation between his thighs. Steve nearly screams when Sam’s sliding a finger slick with Bucky’s come inside of him, head thrown back into the pillows as he pegs Steve’s prostate with rapid little fucking motions of the digit. Bucky takes that as his cue to draw back off Steve’s cock enough to swipe his tongue across the slit, hollowing his cheeks around the delicate head, the faint hum of his moan vibrating right up Steve’s spine.

He has to close his eyes against the brilliant spike of pleasure that blossoms in the pit of his belly as he comes in Bucky’s mouth, hips rocking while Sam rubs his fingertip against his prostate to send Steve onto higher waves of orgasm. He whines pathetically when the stimulation becomes too much to bear, though, and pushes blindly at Sam’s forehead, going limp as Bucky pulls off his cock. When he opens his eyes he has to fight the urge to moan again when he sees Bucky has tugged Sam in for a kiss and the pair are licking at one another, sharing Steve’s come between them in flashes of white. 

But Steve’s too tired to do more than lay there and admire the sight before they’re sliding up on either side to sprawl against his chest, each pressing nuzzling kisses along Steve’s jawline until they meet in the middle. 

Steve lets them both kiss him with lazy attempts at reciprocating, tasting himself on their tongues as they sigh into his mouth. 

“If I had to wake up this way every day I wouldn’t be completely devastated,” murmured, grinning when Bucky snickers and nips at his lower lip. 

He thinks Sam says ‘speak for yourself’ but he’s too tired to chase the idea further, especially when Sam’s nudging his face into the crook of Steve’s throat. 

He definitely hears Sam say they’re never watching _Frozen_ ever again.


	11. Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowman construction is serious business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Snowman

“I’m pretty sure we’re too old for building snowmen in the front yard, Buck,” Sam chuckled, sitting down heavily on the steps of their front porch to watch as Steve and Bucky pack armfuls of heavy, wet snow into a steadily growing mound. He’d been relegated to supply runner since his bruised up back made bending over a misery at the moment. Tomorrow they were driving up to New York to spend a few days with their friends at Stark Tower and Sam was already dreading the long hours spent squirming for a more comfortable position in the back seat. 

“You’re never too old for building snowmen and this is the first time we’ve even had the chance,” Steve responded, fleshing out the base of what was going to be the most impressive snowman Sam had ever seen. 

“Steve was always too sick, or too prone to sickness, to risk being outside in the dead of winter for the length of time it’d take to make a proper snowman when we were kids. His asthma never took well to the cold,” Bucky agreed, not once glancing up from the task of building the snowman up while Steve built it out. 

They start on the next mound of snow and Sam can’t help but grin at the enthusiasm with which they approach the job. He only hopes that there aren’t any kids in the neighborhood that get the bad idea to try and knock this one down. He wouldn’t put it past Bucky to booby trap it for posterity’s sake.

“As long as you don’t start singing about it then I’m glad to sit and watch you do whatever you want with your snowman,” Sam said with a fond look on his face, propping his chin up on his hand with the elbow resting on his knee. It was nice seeing Bucky throw himself so headlong into something like this. Steve, too. He’d come a long way from the quiet, uncertain man that had smiled so self-deprecatingly across from Sam and admitted he didn’t really know what made him happy. 

“But, Sam,” Bucky called, peeking his face around the snowman to smile wickedly at the former Airman.

“Do you wanna build a snowman? Do you?” 

He dodges the snowball Sam lobs in his direction, catching it deftly in his metal hand before whipping it back and hitting Sam square in the chest.

Sam groans and plants a hand against his chest, feigning a strike out as he falls sideways to lean against the railing of the steps.

“Friendly fire, the Falcon is down and out for the count! Someone else will have to make dinner tonight because I am surely not long for this world,” he cried, resting the back of his hand against his forehead and staring up at the sky like he was in a play. 

Another snowball hits his knee, this time thrown by Steve, and he and Bucky both snicker in Sam’s direction, clearly amused by the show.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Sam replied, eyebrow arched as he leans down and scoops up another handful of snow. 

Steve and Bucky trade a look before they shrug and start balling up their own ammunition.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, soldier boy,” Bucky hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching with the effort of holding back his smile. It was hard to take his Super Serious Face seriously when he had a red and white striped scarf around his neck and a knitted hat with a pom pom on the top tugged down over his ears, even without the smile. 

The snowball fight is brutal and dirty and Sam isn’t really sure who wins in the end because they’re all soaked to the skin and shivering, eyeballing each other suspiciously even as they rush to finish the snowman before the sun goes down. Sam supposed the one upside to this, though, is that his back is so numb he can’t even feel the uncomfortable throbbing of his bruises. 

He makes Steve and Bucky squish in on either side of their snowman, which is definitely not Tony Stark but may, in fact, be sporting a grapefruit slice arc reactor and a goatee made with soy sauce that closely resembles a man named Tony Stark. He squats down in front of Steve and holds up the phone to snap a photo of all of them with their snowman, grinning as he sends the picture to Natasha on their way back in the house. 

“Remind me never to start a snowball fight with two super soldiers, one of whom is literally named the _Winter_ Soldier,” Sam groans, peeling off his wet clothing and shoving it straight into the dryer with Steve’s and Bucky’s. 

His phone goes off and Sam yawns as he flicks it to unlock, following Steve and Bucky on unsteady feet to sit on the carpet in front of the fire to warm up chilly skin. 

Natasha: Stark says he’s confiscating your presents.

It was totally worth it.


	12. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys arrive at Stark Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Mistletoe
> 
> Some brief Clint/Bucky action and implied Clint/Natasha.

By the time they arrive at Stark Tower Sam, Steve, and Bucky look more than a little worse for wear, pale face and exhausted from the long drive. Sam was able to do some of the driving but Steve ended up doing most of it between Sam’s stiff muscles and Bucky not technically having a license. Or legally existing at all if they got pulled over. Traffic hadn’t helped, either, and despite having left in the early morning they hadn’t arrived in New York until well into the evening.

“If you so much as utter a syllable that isn’t ‘Your room is this way have a nice nap’ then do not speak, Stark,” Bucky warned from behind the scarf obscuring most of his face, glaring daggers at the way too buoyant man that greeted them in the lobby of Stark Tower. 

“I did offer to send a private plane,” Tony grumbled, gesturing for them to walk in front of him towards the elevators opposite them. 

“You know as well as I do that putting me on a plane is almost as much of a bad idea as putting Banner on a plane,” Bucky shot back, contemplating the benefits of asking Steve to get them a hotel, instead. Steve found Stark just as irritating as he did, and Bucky’s sure Sam could be convinced.

All thoughts of leaving are blown out of his head when the elevator doors open and Natasha’s standing there, looking almost bored as she blinks out at them.

“Oh, was that today?” she asked, shrugging with disinterest that last a few seconds more before a grin that matches Bucky’s splits her face and she lets him pick her up in a tight hug.

“I missed you, you sarcastic pain in the ass,” Bucky sighed fondly, putting her back on her feet so she can kiss Sam and Steve on the cheek. Tony has managed to disappear, much to Bucky’s relief, and the four of them climb into the elevator, Bucky’s arm slung around Natasha’s shoulders.

Besides Sam and Steve she was arguably Bucky’s closest friend and she had helped him work through a metric ton of bullshit when he was trying to get his head on straight after Hydra. Her and Clint understood better than anyone else what it was like to have someone play with your head – pull your mind apart and shove something monstrous and destructive back in its place. 

Natasha and Clint just got Bucky in a way no one else really could, not even Sam and Steve. He was happy to see them again for the first time as Bucky Barnes, rather than as the recovering Winter Soldier with the potential to become Bucky Barnes they had last encountered him as. Sure, he’d traded texts and phone calls with both of them since then but it wasn’t the same as getting to actually see their faces. 

Speaking of.

“Where’s Clint?” Bucky asked in a low hum, letting Natasha tangle their fingers together and lead him from the elevator with an amused Steve and Sam in tow behind him, adjusting the duffel bag he has slung over his shoulder. 

“He’s doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping with Bruce, he should be back fairly soon,” Natasha explained, unlocking their door and stepping inside so they can all pile in, leaving the three sets of keys on the kitchen counter. 

She’s grinning at their dumbstruck faces when they enter the apartment, folding her arms over her chest and shrugging.

“Stark’s been itching to show this off to you for months, now. He’ll be pleased to hear you like it.”

It was massive, with a complete kitchen set up that looked fully stocked already that sprawled into a large den area. It was all fully furnished with the latest in Stark Tech and Bucky was already itching to check out the bedroom and bathroom. He needed a bath to wash off the grime of the long road trip and maybe some sex in said bath could be arranged because Bucky’s pretty sure it’d be a crime not to christen the beautiful apartment. 

Whatever Steve’s about to say to her is cut off by quick steps out in the hallway and a wide grin spreads over Bucky’s face when Clint bursts into the apartment, bowling Bucky over for an enthusiastic hug. Tony and Bruce come in behind him and Bucky’s just so happy to be here that he doesn’t even mind the increasing crowd of people. 

“It’s nice, Stark. Bigger than we really need, but, we appreciate it nevertheless,” Steve said with surprising warmth, reaching out to clasp Tony on the shoulder. He regrets the gratitude almost instantly when Tony grins and points behind him to something hanging from the ceiling.

“I chose the decorations myself,” Tony chuckles just as Bucky looks up to see the mistletoe pinned to the archway he and Clint were currently standing in. He’s utterly nonplussed at the sight of it, looking briefly at Clint, who seems as confused as he is, before turning to stare at Steve and Sam, eyebrow arched.

“I thought I’d catch Captain Awkward with this little doozy first, but, I’m okay with this,” Tony says loftily, gesturing at the pair of them still standing beneath the mistletoe as if to tell them to ‘get on with it’. 

“Stark, I’m really not sure that’s a good idea,” Steve grunted, his tone heavy with annoyance as he mentally takes back every kind word he’s ever said to the man. Sam nods in agreement and adds his scowl to the mix, both men fixing unhappy glares on the pleased looking inventor. 

Bucky’s the one that looks affronted, though, folding his arms over his chest as he eyeballs Sam and Steve, lips pursed and eyebrows arched so high they threaten to disappear into the fringe of his hair.

“And why’s that? Afraid I’m gonna bite Clint’s face off? Lose control of myself just because of some dumb prank?” he demands, pleased when Sam and Steve have the decency to look embarrassed. Natasha seems about ready to tear Tony a new one and Bruce just stands there awkwardly, fidgeting, unsure of whether he should stay or go.

Bucky would show them, _all_ of them, that he’s just as capable of beating Stark at his own game as any of them are. 

He turns towards a sputtering Clint, who seems to have realized what’s about to happen, and yanks him in for a kiss that edges dangerously towards filthy, biting at shock slack lips to lick his way into Clint’s mouth. It’s definitely way different from kissing Sam and Steve and Bucky can still taste the coffee Clint must have had earlier. Only when he’s tasted all Clint has to offer and has reduced him to clutching blindly at the front of Bucky’s leather jacket for dear life does he finally back off, grinning smugly at the awestruck expression on Clint’s face and the faint puffiness of his lips from Bucky’s rough kiss.

The rest of the group is staring open mouthed at the pair of them, though, Natasha seems more intrigued than anything else, looking both of them up and down with a thoughtful gleam to her eyes.

“If anyone else wants the best goddamn kiss of their life I’ll be in the bath,” he declares, waving a hand over his shoulder as he stomps down the hallway towards where he assumes the bathroom must be. 

He can hear Sam and Steve practically stumbling after him in their haste to follow, making no attempt to acknowledge them when they close the bathroom door behind them, far too intent on filling up the massive Jacuzzi style bath tub they’ve somehow managed to score.

Bucky does react to the gentle hand touching his back, though, and turns to fix an unimpressed look on the apologetic pair behind him.

“Well?” he prompted, starting to strip off his layers and leaving them in a careless pile beside the bath, wondering if Stark had anything luxurious and hopefully expensive to use for making bubbles.  
“We’re sorry we didn’t let you take care of the situation yourself. It was wrong of us to jump in when you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself,” Sam mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and peering imploring up at Bucky, a small frown on his lips. 

Steve nods in agreement, reaching out shyly to undo the buckle on Bucky’s belt for him, doing his best impression of a kicked golden retriever puppy.

“We didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t think you could handle yourself, or like we believe you’ll lose control over new things. We were just frustrated with Stark.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, kicking his jeans away with his boots and socks and regarding them blankly for several long moments, making sure they were squirming before he sighs and turns to step into the bath.

“I forgive you. I know you meant well,” he said finally, relaxing when the hot water sinks into his aching muscles.

He waits patiently for Sam and Steve to join him in the bath and pointedly turns himself sideways to rest his feet on Sam’s lap, grinning when Sam takes the hint and digs his thumbs into sore calves, massaging away the tightness of several hours spent sitting in the same stiff position. 

“I think Clint’s got a bit of a crush on you after that, Buck. I’m surprised Natasha hasn’t texted you asking for pointers yet,” Steve teased, nuzzling against Bucky’s neck and pressing soft, apologetic kisses to the damp skin. 

Bucky grins and leans back against the broad shelf of Steve’s chest, reaching up so he can card metal fingers through the shaggy blond of his hair. 

“What can I say? I learned from the best.”


	13. Ornament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes Bucky shopping and there are half naked merman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Ornament
> 
> This is the last day where the updates will be sequential. I'll be gone from tomorrow until Wednesday for The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies movie premiere, which is a multi day party thing with my friends, basically. I MAY have the chance to post an update or two over the next four days but it isn't a guarantee. 
> 
> Regular updates will pick back up again on Thursday. :)
> 
> Have I mentioned before that Bucky and Natasha being BFFs 5ever is basically my favorite thing ever? Because it is.

“So how are things with Sam and Steve going?” Natasha asks around the straw of her smoothie, holding tight to Bucky’s gloved left hand so she doesn’t lose him in the crowd of shoppers as they wander through the mall. Bucky shrugs as she tugs him in the direction of the Hallmark store, staring down at their fingers tangled together. She’d been holding it most of the day and Bucky still can’t seem to wrap his head around the fearless ease in which she accepted the touch of the metal monstrosity.

He could crush her hand into splinters if he wanted to. The movements of the metal arm could still be jerky and violent if he didn’t put constant energy and focus into making it operate like it was normal. Still, even after that he accidentally breaks glassware and bends metal if he isn’t paying attention, or if he gets upset or angry. He had literally shot her, beaten her half to death, and would have finished the job if he’d been given the chance but she still found it in herself to trust him with this. Natasha was trusting him not to hurt her, as if it were as easy as just taking his hand. It made him feel inexplicably warm inside.

“They’re going good. Sam’s banned from any and all roof adventures from now into the unforeseeable future, though,” Bucky hums absently, staring in confusion at a large display of half-naked merman ornaments dressed for various occupations. He doesn’t really understand why anyone would want a shirtless mailman merman hanging from their tree.

Except, of course, when he stumbles across one that is dressed in an original design of Captain America’s uniform, which is unzipped and exposing impressive musculature, blond hair coiffed like Steve’s used to be back during the war. Bucky reaches out to pick up the box without thinking, smirking at Natasha when she looks over to see what he’s got.

“I think this is exactly what our Christmas tree needs this year, don’t you?”

Natasha snickered and pulls out a plain black credit card, one dark red eyebrow arching playfully towards her hairline.

“I think we might need a few more of those.”

They end up with one ornament for each member of the Avengers, a mechanic merman for Tony, a doctor for Bruce, a businessman for Pepper, and so on, but, they struggle to find one that would be good for Sam. 

That is until they wander further down the row and a huge section of Disney themed ornaments is staring them in the face. Without a moment of hesitation Bucky reaches out to snag an ornament of Olaf and adds it to the basket Natasha had grabbed when they ran out of arm space, grinning when she shoots him a questioning look.

“Sam hates that movie. Like, hates it, with every fiber of his being. Something about a dream where Steve had reindeer antlers,” he explained, pleased when her face lights up with understanding and then gleeful comradery. 

“We’ll put these up tonight when everyone is asleep or in their rooms,” she said, handing the amused woman at the counter her Stark credit card to pay for the impressive pile of ornaments they’ve managed to acquire. 

“Bet you five bucks no one notices for at least a day,” Bucky snickered, taking the shopping bag from the cashier and hesitating for only a brief moment before taking Natasha’s hand with his bionic one once more. She flashes him only the briefest of smiles, knowing it’d make Bucky uncomfortable to acknowledge the big step he’d just taken with anything more, and tugs him towards the exit, her heels clicking faintly against the ceramic tile. 

“Bet you ten that Bruce is the first to notice but won’t say anything until Clint notices and gets noisy about it,” she shot back, nudging his shoulder with hers and quirking a smile at him. 

“Fifteen says Sam breaks his within the first five minutes and blames it on Tony,” Bucky said agreeably, letting Natasha lead him into an outlet store that’s definitely geared more towards well dressed men in their twenties than former assassins. He has a feeling that Pepper must have given Natasha the Stark Black Card with explicit instructions not to return without an entire new wardrobe for Bucky, who was dressed today in jeans, sturdy black boots, and his usual plain white t-shirt and black leather jacket. It was a bit worn out and dirty, yeah, but it was comfortable and Bucky liked his lazy, easy way of dressing.

Even if Pepper and Nat both insisted it made him look like a marginally passable hobo. 

“How about you teach me how to plant one on someone like the kiss you gave Clint last night and we’ll call it square,” Natasha said distractedly, holding a pair of artfully torn jeans up to Bucky’s hips to get an idea of what size he wore. He’s snickering despite the growing armful of clothing she’s chosen for him to try on, following her through the store as she picks out shirts and sweaters, clearly keen on buying out the entire selection.

“Awww, Nat, if you wanted a kiss from me that bad all you had to do was ask,” he teased and is rewarded with a scarf to the face he probably deserved.

“Fine, yes, I’ll teach you if you promise that this is the last store we’re visiting today.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully before nodding, pointing him in the direction of the changing room.

“Deal. Now hurry up and try all that on before we’re late meeting Pepper for lunch,” she ordered.

Bucky wonders when exactly he lost control of his life because he jumps to obey her without question, grimacing as he dumps the pile of clothing onto the bench in the changing room. 

Well, at least Sam and Steve can’t harangue him for always stealing their clothes anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those [merman ornaments](http://www.thefind.com/crafts/info-merman-ornament) are actually a thing.
> 
> Also, for the record, I don't actually hate Frozen, I found the movie enjoyable. It's just an easy thing to turn into a joke this time of year. ;)


	14. Eggnog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is Asgardian liquor laced eggnog and Bucky makes an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this is a day late. There was an emergency with my dog yesterday that kept me out until late and by the time that was dealt with it was basically time to go to bed so I could get up for work this morning. 
> 
> So that coupled with Hobbit related madness has me a few days behind. I will still be posting all 25 days, it just means it won't end on Christmas. However each day in the story is still the same chronologically, so this chapter takes place on December 14th and the final chapter will take place on Christmas as previously intended.
> 
> Thanks for your patience! (And sorry this chapter took an unexpected left turn into minor angst. My writing tends to reflect my own mood and I'm in a tired, grumpy sort of place today after the crazy of the last few days, lol!)

Bucky had his doubts before but now, deep into his fifth cup of Asgardian liquor laced eggnog, he is definitely feeling the effects. Thor had brought it as a gift for him and Steve, insisting that if it was strong enough to get Demi-Gods drunk then it had to be more than plenty for a couple of human super soldiers.

Steve was still nursing his second cup but Bucky had dove head first into the promise of getting to be completely drunk for the first time since before the war. 

“This is even better than I remember it being,” he sighed, leaning sideways against Sam and grinning dopily up at him, only vaguely registering the movement of people around them. They had been conscripted into helping Tony decorate the Tower for his Christmas Party scheduled for the day after next and now, with that done, the group was unwinding with a few drinks and an expensive Chinese takeout order, paid for by Tony of course.

Bucky can’t help but snigger when he hears Thor’s booming laughter from across the room, pawing at Sam’s chest to try and find warm skin beneath the suddenly overcomplicated t-shirt. 

“I want to have sex. But I also want to eat,” he whines, feeling hot and flush from head to toe with alcohol. Sam snorts and pats him affectionately on the head, arching an eyebrow at Steve that gets him an amused shrug in return. Bucky had always been an interesting, flighty sort of drunk. More often than not he wanted food, sex, and sleep in that order and would wake up the next morning with the worst hangover, leaving Steve to nurse him back from the brink a self-induced coma. 

“You’re drunk, Buck. Maybe you should have some water,” Sam teased, prying Bucky’s fingers away from his belt and distracting them with a water bottle. He has to swallow down the sudden bubble of arousal when Bucky’s mouth wraps around the opening in a most decidedly pornographic manner, tongue darting out to lick away beads of water as he greedily drank from the bottle. The little whimper of pleasure doesn’t help Sam’s case and he’s almost willing to let Bucky’s hands finish undoing his belt right there, despite the fact they’re still in a room full of their friends. 

Steve certainly doesn’t seem much opposed either, nostrils flaring slightly at the way Bucky buries his face in Sam’s neck and mouths clumsily at the warm skin he finds there, gasping wetly between loud sucking kisses. 

He and Sam had formed a pact, however, and it’s with a strong feeling of regret that Sam pulls Bucky away from where he’d been trying to grind his ass down into his crotch, firm hands keeping his hips well away from the danger zone.

“Not while you’re drunk. We can’t be sure you’ll tell us to stop if you need us to,” Sam says gently, wincing when Bucky looks outraged and offended at this suggestion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, the sleepy smile sliding off his face in an instant to be replaced by a sour expression of disdain. 

Sam’s relieved when Steve reaches out to rest his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing in what they both hope is a reassuring manner.

“It means, Bucky, that you’d probably say yes to just about anything right now, and Sam and I would feel more comfortable waiting until we know you’ll tell us if you don’t want to do something.” 

After several tense moments Bucky finally nods, though there’s a sudden rough, contemplative edge to his words when he replies.

“I understand.”

When Bucky looks up from his lap Steve expects frustration or annoyance, or even outright anger. What he doesn’t expect is the twist of confusion he sees in the lines creasing Bucky’s face and guessing from the stare Sam is giving him he’s just as concerned about the lost way Bucky is studying them both. 

“Bucky?” Steve ventures quietly, cupping his hand against Bucky’s cheek to try and steady him, sliding his thumb gently along the seam of his mouth, “Everything alright?”

Some of the fog seems to clear from Bucky’s eyes and he flashes them both a small but reassuring smile, reaching out so he can hand Sam the still half full cup of eggnog he had been holding. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Stevie.”

He doesn’t choose to clarify any further than that and Steve and Sam trade uncertain looks over Bucky’s back as the former assassin sinks down to lay across both their laps on the couch, curled up on his side so he can watch the overly competitive game of cards Natasha, Clint, Darcy Lewis, and Jane Foster are playing at the dining table across the room. 

Halfway through the second round he excuses himself to the bathroom and when he doesn’t come back well after an hour has passed, Sam and Steve decide to go looking, tracking him back to their floor with some assistance from Tony’s computer AI Jarvis. 

“Bucky?” 

Sam points out the neat row of empty bottles on the counter next to the sink. All of the bottles of Asgardian liquor have been emptied, as well as every other bottle of alcohol they had in their cabinets, save the beer in the fridge. 

They find Bucky sitting on the floor of their living room with the wide screen high definition television loudly broadcasting a Christmas cartoon to the entire apartment. He doesn’t seem particularly distressed, though, Sam notices a squared off set to his jaw that certainly means there’s something going on that they haven’t quite yet figured out.

Sam gestures at Steve to follow his lead and sinks down onto the floor beside Bucky with his knees drawn up towards his chest, slinging his arms casually across them and keeping his gaze firmly focused on the screen. Steve hesitates only briefly before doing the same, clearly willing to do what Sam said for now since it had never once steered them wrong. 

“Hey, Buck. What are you watching?” Sam asked gently, pleased when Bucky hums faintly and leans sideways to rest against him, easily moving his arm out of the way and wrapping it around Bucky’s shoulders instead. 

“Frosty the Snowman,” he murmurs, sounding more drowsy than anything else, much to Sam’s relief. He didn’t seem to be dissociating in any way and there wasn’t any sort of angry or frightened edge to his words. Which, while reassuring, also created more questions than it answered. 

“Did you need a break? You can tell us when you need a bit of space, sweetheart, we understand it can be stressful. Steve and I were just a little worried when you didn’t come back from your bathroom break. We thought maybe we had upset you with what we said.”

Bucky’s head bobbed in silent agreement, relaxing a fraction further when Steve shuffled close enough to curl an arm around his waist and drops a kiss into his hair, eyes falling shut for a brief moment. 

“I’m sorry I left without telling you I was coming back to our room. And I understand why you made that decision. I used to turn down dames that drank a little too much for me to feel comfortable, too, back when I was.. back before the War,” Bucky said in a soft tone, melting into the gentle rub of Steve’s hand against his back. 

Sam can hear the unspoken beginning of another sentence and stays quiet, giving Bucky the chance to gather his thoughts into a clarification of his actions. He watches the snowman on the screen, instead, resting his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head and humming faintly along to the music. 

“It felt really good. The alcohol. The drunkenness. It was nice. My mind felt so fuzzy and empty, like a slate wiped clean. There wasn’t anything except the taste of soy sauce and the feeling of your skin, and I liked it. The nothingness. I wanted to sink down into it and never come back out,” Bucky murmured finally, staring vaguely at Frosty on the tv as if he had all the answers to his questions. 

Steve looks confused at this but Sam is nodding, understanding starting to dawn on him with how Bucky chose to phrase the explanation. He’d heard it many times from other veterans, when he used to work for Veterans Affairs. 

“You’re worried you like it a bit too much,” Sam replied, and now he can see the comprehension filling Steve’s face too. 

Bucky hums in quiet agreement, metal fingers tracing absent shapes on Sam’s thigh. 

“There was no Hydra. No memories of pain or torture. No War. All I could think about was how much I wanted to have sex, and eat more Chinese food. And I know it’s… It’s something I can lose myself in, if it’s around. And I’ve come too far to get lost in nothingness. I can’t just.. give up and lose myself in a bottle of booze, not when I’ve worked so hard to learn how to live with the Winter Soldier in my head.”

Sam can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him at that and has to backtrack when Bucky shoots him a wounded look, squeezing him tight to his side so he can nudge their foreheads together, his eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you, Bucky. You made a really hard decision and Steve and I are both so damn proud of you for making it. A lot of other people in your shoes wouldn’t have had the strength to do what you did,” Sam murmurs, leaning back so Steve can feather kisses across Bucky’s cheeks. 

Bucky looks embarrassed, now, and he shrugs at the words of praise they both lump on him, pointedly avoiding their gaze in favor of rediscovering his fascination with the movie on the screen. 

“I lost Bucky Barnes for seventy years. I’m not about to surrender that again, not when I finally remember who I really am and where I’m supposed to be.”

A broken sound escapes Steve’s mouth and he pulls Bucky in for a hard, searching kiss, his hands cupped around Bucky’s jaw as if he were afraid Bucky would float away if he didn’t hold him tight. 

They return to the party once Sam and Steve have their fill of kissing and touching the man sandwiched between them, desperate to reassure him that they supported him and understood the important choice he had just made, as difficult as it was for him to make it. 

Bucky smiles when Natasha invites him to join the game of strip poker she definitely seems to be winning, based on the way Tony, Bruce, and Clint are down to their boxers and socks. He declines the rum and coke Darcy offers him and smiles again when she hands him a soda instead without missing a beat and turns back to continue her conversation with Pepper and Jane. 

He thinks the strange little family they’ve somehow become part of may definitely have more than its fair share of eccentricities and problems, but, ultimately, he’s sure that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“Why is there a small army of half naked merman in my Christmas tree?”

Well, almost nowhere else.


	15. Tinsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has the magic cure all for Bucky's hangover. The Christmas tree drawn in permanent marker might be a bit harder to get rid of.

When Bucky wakes up with a pounding in his skull and a sticky feeling in his throat that reminds him why he never really cared to go drinking even before the War. He whines pitifully and turns to bury his face deeper into Sam’s neck in a desperate attempt to hide from the morning sunlight streaming in through the curtain. He can feel the faint rumble of a yawn in Sam’s chest and pointedly tightens his arm around his middle, making his opinion on getting out of bed very clear. 

Bucky’s nearly fallen back to sleep when he hears the bedroom door opening and the smell of bacon, eggs, and roasted potatoes fills the room, tempting him back from the edge of unconsciousness.

He peeks out from the hollow of Sam’s throat to shoot Steve a drowsy look of intrigue, sniffing hopefully. 

“Figured you might need a morning pick me up,” Steve teased, sitting down on the bed and offering the steaming plate of food to Bucky, who sits up with no small amount of assistance from Sam. He winces at the rush of blood to his aching skull and takes his breakfast from Steve, sighing at the first large mouthful of greasy bacon and eggs. 

“Seventy years later and still the same hangover cure,” Bucky chuckled, accepting the glass of water and handful of aspirin he’s given. It wouldn’t really help the way it used to but it’d at least take the edge off the headache. 

He pauses when he gets a good look of his left arm though and holds it up for inspection, brows knitting at the perplexing lines of green and gold traced onto the metal. There were strings of metallic silver tied around the plating in several places and it takes him a few moments to realize someone has, in fact, drawn a Christmas tree on his arm with permanent marker and decorated it with strands of tinsel. 

“At least they finally found a purpose for the red star,” he commented finally, amused that the star that the Soviets had permanently etched into the prosthetic had been the starting point for whoever drew the tree. 

Sam, who had looked to be on the verge of cracking through this entire exchange, finally lets the bubble of amusement burst, leaning down to rest his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder while his entire body shakes with silent laughter.

Bucky looks at Steve and arches an eyebrow, holding the arm out so he could start plucking the strands of tinsel out from between the metal plating. 

“Natasha?” he asked, picking up a slice of bacon and popping it into his mouth. Steve snorts and reaches out to steal the hash brown Sam had just plucked off Bucky’s plate, eating it with a smirk and a wink. 

“Natasha.”

Oh, it was on.


	16. Christmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky enjoys the Christmas Party more than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Christmas Party
> 
> The song Bucky has played at the party is [Send Me Your Love For Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ksqBd81N1o) by Raymond Scott and his Orchestra. 
> 
> [I'll Be Home For Christmas](http://www.authentichistory.com/1939-1945/3-music/11-Separation/19431011_Ill_Be_Home_For_Christmas-Bing_Crosby.html) by Bing Crosby.
> 
> Chapter Rating: Explicit

It feels strange to be in a crowded room of people again. It’s been decades since Bucky attended any sort of fancy party and there was certainly never anything on this scale back before the War. 

“You seen Sam or Steve?” he asks Natasha in a low voice, adjusting the ornate, golden bear mask covering the upper half of his face. Her face is obscured by a beautifully detailed swan mask but he can still see the amusement lighting up her expression.

“It’s only been a few hours and you’re already pining, James?” she teased, easily avoiding the elbow he chucks in her direction. 

He had left Sam and Steve to get ready for Tony and Pepper’s party with vague words of Natasha needing his help choosing a dress. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she had asked for his opinion while deciding between two equally beautiful, slinky black dresses.

And had promptly ignored his suggestion. 

“I’m just looking forward to dancing with them,” Bucky sighed, looking down at the crisp three piece suit Pepper had gotten him on the sly. It was blacker than ink and soft as silk, tailored so perfectly that it fit him better than a glove. His long hair was neatly gelled back into a pony tail and he’d even let Darcy talk him into a little eyeliner. 

He’s pretty sure it said something that all three women, including Jane Foster, had felt zero discomfort with walking around in only their underwear while Bucky was there, doing their hair and makeup before slipping on beautiful dresses of blues and reds and blacks. 

It was kind of nice, really, that they trusted the Winter Soldier enough not to feel threatened in his presence.

 _No, not the Winter Soldier,_ he amends, adjusting the buttery soft blue silk tie so that it would lie smoother, _Bucky Barnes._

Bucky watches as Jane goes dancing by with Thor, the red of his tie matching the crimson frills of her dress perfectly. 

He hasn’t seen Sam or Steve since he left them this morning and he’s itching to show them his nice new things. 

Bucky turns to ask Natasha if she knew whether they were running late and stifles a grunt when he sees she’s disappeared like smoke, leaving him to stand awkwardly against the wall all by himself. 

“Hey, soldier. Can I have the next dance?” a voice murmurs warmly against his ear and he tips his head to see Steve grinning at him from behind a silvery eagle mask, looking positively sinful in a trim suit of grey, his blond hair parted neatly to the side like Bucky remembered. 

“Only if you let me lead,” Bucky teased breathlessly, drinking in the gorgeous sight Steve made with obvious delight. Steve looks equally wrecked at the perfect hug of Bucky’s suit around narrow hips and follows him mutely out onto the dance floor, arm sliding neatly around Bucky’s waist. 

The music is something unfamiliar to Bucky but slow and easy, performed by the small orchestra Pepper had hired for the occasion. It’s easy to fall into a gentle sway with the soft trill of the violin and the whisper of the piano echoing in the cavernous room the party is being hosted in. Steve’s hand is warm in Bucky’s and he can’t even remember the last time they got to dance like this. 

“I remember teaching you how to dance. Christmas Eve, 1940. Your Ma was sick and I wasn’t just gonna leave you alone to mope,” Bucky hummed thoughtfully, staring up at Steve for a long moment until an idea strikes him. He pulls free of Steve and signals to him that he’ll be right back, wading through the crowd until he finds where the orchestra is sitting, pulling out the complicated Stark Tech phone Pepper had given him. 

“Can you play this?” he asks hopefully, handing the phone to the orchestra director to study for several long moments. He gestures for one of the singers and they both listen to the song before they nod and smile at him, handing his phone back to him and returning to their respective areas to confer with the rest of the orchestra performers. 

Bucky’s grinning when he finds Steve in the crowd again just before the music starts to play, pleased to see Sam has joined them as well, looking gorgeous in a navy blue suit with matching tie, eyes shining with mischief from behind his falcon mask. 

“Not terribly subtle, either of you,” Bucky chuckled, reaching out to tap the beaks of both masks before leaning in to kiss Sam, metal arm curling around his waist.

“Where’d you disappear to, Buck?” Steve murmured, sliding up behind Bucky to nuzzle at the back of his neck, hands gripping at his hips to pull him close. Bucky shrugs and allows himself to melt into the two men holding him between them, sighing into the gentle whisper of Sam’s lips across his jawline. 

When the opening notes of Bucky’s song start playing, though, he can feel the curve of Steve’s smile against his neck. Steve remembers it just as well as Bucky does.

“You pulled me out of my chair and just started swinging me around my living room without a care in the world. You kept saying it was Christmas and you were going to make me smile if it killed you,” Steve laughed, pulling Bucky into a quick step dance, spinning him much easier now than he could have in 1940. Sam is smiling while they have their moment, head bobbing to the cheer beat of the music even before the singer starts to belt the lyrics out. 

He’s still grinning when Bucky reaches out to pull him into the fray, his steps not quite as sure as Bucky’s and Steve’s but making up for their unpracticed sway with unhindered enthusiasm. 

Bucky feels punch drunk by the time they make it back to their apartment an hour later, laughing breathlessly between kisses as he, Steve, and Sam all attempt to undress each other at the same time. 

“Mmn, Jarvis, can you play-,”

Bucky is cut off by Steve’s lips robbing the breath from his lungs, allowing the other man to lick his way into every corner of Bucky’s mouth before he pulls away again, head tipped back so Steve can tackle the knot in his tie. 

“Jarvis, that playlist we talked about.”

Bucky spins on his heel to yank Sam in for a burning kiss, pulling eagerly at the buttons of his vest and collared shirt in search of the warm skin he knows is hidden just beneath. The soft strum of a guitar fills the apartment and Bucky melts into the gentle croon of Bing Crosby’s voice, ghosting metal fingers over the high arch of Sam’s cheekbone. 

“I wanted our own special Christmas party, just for us,” he murmured, turning his head so he can press a kiss to the arch of Steve’s throat. 

Bucky goes willingly when Steve curls his arms beneath his thighs and lifts him up to carry him towards their room, his hand still held tight around Sam’s to make sure the other man follows after them, as if he really wanted to be anywhere else but right here.

It’s easy to lift his hips up and let Steve and Sam peel his pants down and he’s grinning at the matching gut punched looks of need they’re wearing when they see what he’s snuck in underneath the crisp, tailored suit. 

“Got them special the other day when I went shopping with Nat,” he murmured, toeing off the plain cotton socks he’d been wearing over the black silk nylon stockings to protect them from his dress shoes. They came to just above his knee and were clipped to the sheer black silk garter belt that fit snug around his waist, just above the black and red lace panties he’d hidden so easily under layers of dark cotton. 

Natasha hadn’t said anything when he silently led her into the lingerie shop. She was happy to play accomplice when one of the sales associates thought they were shopping for her, and easily smuggled her way into the dressing room to help Bucky find something that fit properly. 

Well, almost properly. The fabric was tight against his cock at the front, unlike the underwear he had gotten before designed with more room there for that very reason, but, there wasn’t time to find a specialty shop like that. Not to mention Bucky was still unnerved by the idea of being so open about this secret part of him that liked the cling of lace and the snug fit of silk and steel ribbing. It’d been terrifying enough to show it to Natasha, never mind a store full of strangers. For now he’d limit his orders to the internet and that desperate, aching first time at the Faire with Steve and Sam. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Sam sighed reverently, leaning in to kiss him while he pulled his hair loose from the ponytail, hands rubbing appreciatively over the layers of silk and nylon. 

Steve opens him up with fingers and tongue while Sam sucks bruises into the pale skin of Bucky’s throat, their once crisp clothing tossed in careless piles in favor of needy touches and warm kisses. Christmas music continues to play softly from the speakers in the room and Bucky sinks into the rhythm of it with ease, rolling his hips up to meet Steve’s mouth with every thrust of his fingers. 

It’s been a while since Bucky found himself pinned between them with both men buried deep inside his body and the ache and stretch feels like coming home, Sam spread out on the bed beneath them while Steve rocked against him from behind, filling Bucky up in a way only they knew how. 

“Steve, please,” he whimpers breathlessly, curling over Sam so he can claim his mouth in a clumsy, needy kiss, shivering at the slide of warm hands over the silk of his stockings. His panties had been removed when they got in the way of Steve’s plans but the stockings and garter belt remained, now damp with sweat against his skin. 

Steve presses soothing kisses to the gnarl of scarring that join flesh and metal by way of answer, canting his hips up a bit as he rocks into Bucky, driving both his and Sam’s cocks deeper inside the wet heat of his body. Bucky shudders at the constant pressure against his prostate and his cock smears sticky lines of fluid between his and Sam’s bellies. 

It’s no surprise to any of them when Sam comes first, being the only non serum enhanced superhero in the room, and Bucky whines as Sam’s cock pulses inside of him, kissing him desperately through the burning rush of pleasure. Sam is still kissing him even as he pulls himself out of Bucky’s body, reaching down to grip his thighs and hitch them further up on the bed, spreading him even more open for Steve. 

Steve leans over Bucky to give Sam a grateful kiss, his breath hitching against Sam’s lips each time he fucks back into Bucky’s pliant, eager body. It doesn’t take much more after that for them to finally come and Bucky sighs as the comfortable wash of afterglow settles over him, limp and lazy in the circle of Sam’s arms. 

He doesn’t make a single noise of complaint as Steve cleans all three of them up, lifting his hips just enough when asked so Steve can slip his panties back into place and clip the garters back over them. Bucky definitely doesn’t mind the comfortable snugness of the lace and silk and the other two men seem to enjoy it, based on the way two pairs of hands touch and explore the soft fabric, squeezing gently at the supple skin beneath it. 

“Mmm, no more. More sex after nap,” Bucky mumbles, riding the gentle currents of his orgasmic haze coupled with the soft notes of a piano and Frank Sinatra filling the room. 

Steve is chuckling when he presses a kiss to the back of Bucky’s shoulder, sharing a kiss with Sam over his pliant body. 

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” Sam murmurs into Bucky’s hair, pulling him forward against his chest even as Steve spoons up against his back, their arms and legs tangling together in an impressive pile of limbs and broad shoulders. 

Merry Christmas indeed.


	17. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a powerful storm and Bucky realizes he has better friends than he ever believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk I was exhausted when I wrote this one forgive me. 
> 
> Day 17: Snow

Bucky had always assumed that if there was anywhere in the world that was safe from untimely blackouts it was Stark Tower.

When the lights flicker and go dark in the middle of Steve fucking him into the mattress Bucky discovers he was so very wrong. 

Being plunged into sudden darkness is jarring enough but the loud yell of surprise Sam gives from the bathroom when his shower promptly goes cold is more than plenty to have Bucky throwing Steve off the bed with a swing of his bionic arm, eyes wild and chest heaving for air. 

Outside he could hear the wind howling and the heavy wetness of snow pelting the windows. There was a nor’easter raging through New York City and Steve and Sam had been taking turns trying to get Bucky’s mind off the cramped, frozen fear that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Sam bursts in with a towel slung around his waist and immediately goes still at the sight of Steve on the ground and Bucky crouched on the bed like a cornered animal, raising his hands carefully.

“Bucky? Hey, sweetheart, it’s just us. It’s okay. We’re gonna get dressed so we can find Tony and see if he knows when the lights will come back on. Okay?” Sam says soothingly, only moving closer when Bucky gives him a tiny nod. 

Bucky is quiet while Steve cleans him up with a damp washcloth, expressing his regret over almost hurting him with an apologetic kiss pressed to his collarbone. Steve kisses his forehead in acceptance of his apology and helps him up onto his feet. 

Neither Sam or Steve comment when Bucky pulls a plain black corset out of the closet and turns so someone can lace him up. Sam makes sure the laces are as tight as Bucky needs them to be right now while Steve kneels in front of him and guides his feet into the leg holes of plain cotton panties, making sure they sit comfortably on his hips. 

“You okay, Buck?” Sam asks in a soft voice and Bucky nods, hiding his corset and underwear beneath a pair of jeans and one of Steve’s baggy Army hoodies, feeling instantly more at ease wrapped up in his layers. 

There’s voices in their apartment now and Bucky stands on legs that wobble a little after three rather enthusiastic rounds of sex not long before, following Sam and Steve out of the bedroom to investigate who has come to visit.

Only to find their apartment is filled to the brim with, well… everyone. 

“I don’t remember putting the bat signal in the sky,” Bucky comments, very gingerly sitting down on the couch with Natasha, who smirks at him knowingly. 

“Figured you guys wouldn’t mind a bit of company and it’s terribly boring riding out a snow storm in the dark on your own,” Clint says around a mouthful of Cheetos, moving the books off the coffee table so he can start dealing cards out. 

Bruce, Pepper, and Darcy have all settled on the floor next to him to play and Bucky can see Thor and Jane in the kitchen moving food from Tupperware containers and onto serving plates. Probably all things from various fridges that might as well be eaten before they go bad, if Bucky had to guess. 

“How is it even possible to lose power? I thought Stark Tower was self-sustainable,” Steve comments as he sinks onto the couch beside Bucky, shooting an amused look at Tony, who is seated on the armchair and has the decency to at least appear embarrassed.

“Yes, well, between Loki frying the reactor for the building so he could open a portal to the other end of space and the whole getting my house blown up by a psychotic killer thing kinda left me without much free time. So Stark Tower is back on the city power grid for a while,” Tony grumbles, shrugging and folding his arms over his chest. 

“And someone forgot to pay the oil guy to make a delivery so our generator is running on fumes. Just enough to keep the security firewalls up and Jarvis running, more or less,” Pepper adds, clearly unimpressed with her phone meeting with the Board of Stark Industries being cut short by the storm. 

Well, that answered that at least. 

Bucky falls quiet when Jane and Thor come into the living room with food, leaning back on the couch so he can watch Clint start to bicker with Bruce over which game they should play. They’re all so loud Bucky can’t even hear the roar of the storm outside.

He smiles to himself and lets Natasha tuck him up against her side, watching Sam and Jane place a couple candles around the room for light.

His friends had come because they knew the storm might be upsetting. They had come with food and warmth and happy conversation. For him. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Bucky murmurs softly, resting his head on Natasha’s lap while she massages her fingers against his scalp. His corset is a comfortable snugness around his midsection and Bucky’s pretty sure Natasha’s guessed what the rigidness of his movements means. She smiles and fondly pats his cheek.

“You have but I’m not opposed to you telling me again.”

In the middle of a blizzard that would have left him paralyzed with fear only a few months before, Bucky falls asleep with Natasha’s fingers in his hair and a smile on his face.


	18. Christmas Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two former Russian spies, one television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late I work retail and basically, Christmas.
> 
> So you get a Nat and Bucky are BFFs 5ever chapter because it makes me happy.

“So, James, how are things with Sam and Steve?” Natasha asks around a mouthful of pretzels, using Bucky’s thigh as a pillow while they’re watching some Christmas movie about a man who is visited by three ghosts. Sam and Steve had been called away to help Clint, Tony, and Thor with something Avengers related Bucky wasn’t allowed to know about and he was relieved when Natasha showed up at his door with a stack of movies and three plastic bags filled with food. He needed the distraction from worrying about whether Steve and Sam were safe.

“Really well. Sometimes I wonder why they even put up with me. It’s been more than a year and I still have episodes over frost on the window and unexpected splashes of cold water. I hit the floor whenever a car backfires or a door slams. I..”

He pauses, clearly unsure as to whether he should say any more.

“I have to wear certain things just to feel comfortable in my own skin sometimes. And Sam and Steve say they like it but it’s weird, isn’t it? It’s fuckin’ weird.”

Natasha snorts and pats his knee, reaching out for another pretzel and taking the time while she’s chewing to properly arrange her words, eyes fixed on the form of Scrooge arguing with the Ghost of Christmas Present.

“I can assure you it’s not weird and I can definitely promise Sam and Steve mean it when they say they like it,” she hums, quirking her lips in a faint smile when Bucky starts petting absently through her hair with his metal fingers.

“As for why they put up with you I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that they love you to pieces, you loser, and they understand that your freakouts aren’t something you can help. I know for a fact Steve still has nightmares about New York and the War, and Sam’s a soldier, too, who used to work for Veterans Affairs as a counselor, so, I hardly think they’d fault you for just being human.”

Bucky purses his lips but nods begrudgingly and Natasha sits up to stare at him heavily, her eyes uncomfortably shrewd and piercing.

“What’s this really about?” she asks finally and Bucky wants to curse her ability to see right through his bullshit at any given moment. 

He shrugs and folds his arms over his chest with a petulant grunt, looking anywhere but at the woman seated beside him.

“I guess I’m just tired of always having to stay behind while they run off to risk their lives. If they’re here then I can protect them but if they’re not, then..”

He trails off, waving his hand vaguely.

“If they’re not here then they can get hurt and there’s nothing you can do to help them,” Natasha supplies helpfully, giving Bucky a knowing look. He shrugs again and runs a hand through his hair, loosening the ponytail he’d dragged the messy black tangles up into that morning. 

“Yeah. I just feel… helpless. Useless. Like I’m just some housewife from back in the day stuck waiting at home for the husband to return from the war.”

He smiles wryly then, slinging his arms across the back of the couch.

“Guess I understand how Steve felt watching all his friends march off to war and having to stay behind and hope we don’t all get ourselves killed.”

Natasha regards him silently for several long moments before she leans back against the couch, the shadow of a playful smile on her lips.

“You know there’s a simple solution to your problem, right?”

Bucky thinks she’s overestimating the meaning of the word ‘simple’ but nods, prompting her to go on.

“You join the Avengers and start fighting with us, as part of the team.”

He blinks at her for a moment before his brows furrow, his head cocking to the side as he digests what she’s saying. 

“The Winter Soldier joining the Avengers? I’m not sure that’s good PR,” he says slowly, filled with doubt and uncertainty at the mere concept of becoming part of the Avengers. The Avengers is a group of heroes, who save the world and protect people. Bucky was a monster who was only good at murder and breaking and entering. 

Natasha slips her hand into his and squeezes it gently. 

“If there’s a place for me then there’s a place for you, James. Hell, Bruce destroyed Harlem, Stark used to build bombs that were used by the bad guys, I was a Russian spy, and Clint used to be a carnie. We’ve all got our own fuck ups we’re trying to atone for. And for what it’s worth I think you’d be a great addition to the team.”

Bucky gives her a self-deprecating smile, staring at their hands as he rubs his thumb in a gentle circle against her skin.

“What on earth would make you think that, Natalia?” 

She chuckles and leans in to press her lips to the corner of his mouth, letting him curl inwards to burrow against her chest.

“Because you already are.”

When Sam and Steve get home later that night, bruised and bloody, Bucky sits them down at the kitchen table with his mind now firmly made up.

“I’m joining the Avengers.”

Turns out Natasha can be pretty persuasive when she sets her mind to it.


	19. Wreath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is angry with Bucky for wanting to jump back into fighting so soon and Bucky is angry with Steve for trying to dictate how he lives his life.
> 
> Sam just hopes that some forced time together will smooth things over before Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Wreath
> 
> Merry Christmas, everyone.

Steve still isn’t speaking to Bucky the next day and he sighs when he sits up in bed and sees that he’s alone. Steve must have persuaded Sam to go running with him before Bucky woke up. 

To some extent he understands why Steve is upset. It’s more or less the same reasons why Bucky had been angry at Steve for constantly trying to enlist in the war effort. He doesn’t want to see Bucky get hurt. 

Except Bucky is a two hundred and fifty pound metal arm wielding super assassin and Steve was a ninety pound asthmatic with a heart condition. 

Bucky swears under his breath and hauls himself out of bed and into the shower, closing his eyes as the hot water pours over his aching shoulders. 

Sure, sometimes he still has nightmares and yeah there were things that triggered bad memories of Hydra. But that didn’t mean Bucky was an invalid capable of defending himself. He had just as much right to be on the Avengers as Steve and Sam did and if nightmares and flashbacks were enough to disqualify him then it was enough to disqualify virtually every other member of the team, including them.

He could see that Sam agreed with this line of thought in the way his expression softened and his arms came down from where they’d been folded defensively over his chest.

Steve was the only one who still refused to listen and when he saw that Sam was halfway to convinced he spun on his heel and left the apartment entirely. 

Which resulted in Bucky only just barely resisting the urge to punch a hole in Stark’s nice unblemished wall just for the sake of proving to Steve he was more than strong enough to look after himself. 

Sam was awkward and unsure after that, trapped between the two warring super soldiers and without much of an idea on how to approach the argument. Neither of them were willing to budge an inch and it didn’t help that Steve didn’t even come back that night. 

Bucky looks down at the streams of water running over smooth metal plating, watching the way the liquid found every groove and nick and flaw. He’d had the strength to pull Steve out of the river despite his numerous bleeding wounds, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken head. And Steve had the nerve to act like he was some helpless child who would break down in the middle of his first fight. 

He shuts the shower off and climbs out with tired steps, not even bothering with a towel. His hands are shaking as pulls on jeans and a sweatshirt, bypassing the steadying corset he’s all but itching to wear. 

Steve would just see it as another sign of weakness and use it as another reason why Bucky wasn’t ready to join the Avengers. 

The other two men have returned from their run when Bucky stalks out of the bedroom, ignoring both of them as he sinks down onto the couch and spreads out to take up the entire length of it, clearly not at all interested in company. He can hear a quiet but tense argument happening in the other room and tugs his hood up to try and block it out, turning up the Charlie Brown cartoon without really watching it. 

“Bucky?” comes Sam’s soft voice from beside the couch. Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch in his direction, completely content with the idea of not speaking to them for the rest of their lives. 

“Bucky, Steve has something to say to you.”

Bucky does grunt at that and ducks his head down enough to hide most of his face in the hoodie, glaring out from behind grey cotton blend with nothing short of disdain.

“He’s already said more than plenty,” he says bitingly, bitterly pleased when Steve makes a pained noise from somewhere nearby. 

Sam heaves a sigh and snatches the remote away from Bucky, turning the television off before he jams it in his coat pocket.

“I’m gonna go get coffee. You two stay and talk.”

The way he says it makes it sounds much more like an order than a request and Bucky is displeased to realize Sam has left with the remote still in his pocket. 

“You got something to say, Rogers, you better say it now because I’m going to see if Nat’s around,” Bucky growls, hauling himself upright and stalking right past the other man who seems frozen in place. 

He gets as far as the door when Steve is suddenly crowding way up into his space and pinning him against him, his eyes wide with fear for some reason Bucky can’t really fathom.

“Please don’t go, Bucky. I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry I just made that decision for you without really listening to why you wanted to join the team in the first place. And I’m sorry I left when you presented an argument I couldn’t talk my way out of without it being obvious that I was wrong.”

Bucky swallows thickly, flexing experimentally against the tight hold Steve has on his wrists and forcing himself not to shove him away or panic. Steve seems to realize his mistake and releases him instantly, planting his hands against the door behind Bucky instead and leaning forward just enough to press his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t think you’re strong enough to fight. Because I don’t.. I don’t think that, I never have. I was just scared. It’s been easy these past months knowing you were safe at home. It’s hard enough sometimes worrying about Sam getting involved in the team and what could happen to him without also knowing you’re in the middle of it, too. I guess I just got comfortable with the idea of always being able to know you were safe and there for me to come home to after every fight.”

Steve sounds wrecked as he says these words to Bucky’s collarbone, shivering when a pair of arms are circling around his waist to pull him in closer.

“You could’ve said that last night, you stupid punk, rather than ranting and raving about how I wasn’t ready to leap back into fighting, and that I still had way too many nightmares to possibly be capable of holding it together in the middle of a battle,” Bucky murmured, his voice firm despite the understanding he now had for Steve’s panic. Steve nods miserably and slides his arms around Bucky to cling to the other man. 

“I know, Buck. I’m sorry. It was wrong and stupid and selfish for me to make that choice for you. I’d want the same thing if I was in your shoes and it was unfair of me to deny you the same thing I’d be demanding for myself if I were you.”

Bucky makes a satisfied noise and reaches up to pat Steve’s head, pressing a soothing kiss to the lines creasing his forehead.

“I forgive you. But this doesn’t change the fact that I’m still joining the team whether you like it or not, Stevie. I’m almost a hundred years old and I don’t need you to sign my permission slip if I want to start using my strength and skills to actually help people rather than hurt them,” Bucky sighs, letting Steve slide his arms beneath his thighs and hoist him up, holding tight to his shoulders so he doesn’t fall backwards. Steve walks them towards the living room and slowly sits down with Bucky on his lap, his eyes red rimmed and tired. 

“I know, Buck. I won’t try to stop you. I’m s-”

Bucky cuts him off with a finger against his lips before replacing it with his own, licking his way between them to taste the flavor of coffee that clings to Steve’s tongue.

“Stop apologizing before I slap you upside the head. You’ve got about an hour to make it up to me before Sam comes back expecting a war zone and trenches made of furniture. So you better get started,” Bucky says slyly, stealing away whatever Steve might have to say in response to that with another deep, searching kiss. 

When Sam returns later that afternoon he’s relieved to see clothing strewn across the carpet rather than blood, grinning wryly at the way Steve and Bucky are twined together on the couch. 

“So I see the talk went well,” he teases in a low chuckle, startling both men from their very thorough attempts to taste one another’s tonsils. He hands them each a Styrofoam cup of coffee and chuckles when Bucky shoots a questioning look at the ring of tree branches he has looped on his arm.

“I figured that since our nice Christmas tree is all the way back in DC we could hang this up as a sort of surrogate until we go home,” Sam explained, leaning down to lick away a smear of foam from Bucky’s upper lip. This results in a much more involved kiss than he expected and he’s humming agreeably when Bucky finally lets him pull away, planting an almost innocent kiss by comparison on Steve’s mouth. 

“I think I’d like that very much,” Bucky murmured, resting his head against Steve’s chest to watch Sam remove a painting from the wall and hang the wreath up in its place. It wasn’t anything enormous or spectacular. A few bows had been tied onto the branches and there were multi colored plastic balls decorating it much like the ones on their tree back home. But it was theirs and that meant Bucky loved it. 

“Merry almost Christmas, Sam,” Bucky said in a soft voice, reaching out to grab for his hand and tugging him towards the couch to join them. Steve grumbled good naturedly about perhaps moving to the bed but he’s smiling when Sam leans down to accept another kiss from the former assassin.

“You too, Bucky.”


	20. Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers decided a simply Secret Santa exchange was easier than everyone buying presents for the entire group. 
> 
> Bucky's pretty sure the system is rigged against him when he opens his gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Secret Santa
> 
> What do you mean this is a day late I don't know what you're talking about.
> 
> Inspired by this OT3 prompt: Person A secretly has a full body pillow of person B. When person B spends the night for a sleepover, they end up finding the pillow, ending up in a long and awkward confession from person A. (For OT3, Person A has a body pillow of both B and C.)

At first it’d sounded like a wonderful idea. A Secret Santa exchange between their group of friends, so no one felt pressured to try and come up with gifts for everyone in the Avengers and their extended friends like Jane, Pepper, and Darcy. 

Bucky was still getting gifts for Sam and Steve, of course, and had found a nice new sweater for Natasha and new shoes for Clint, and may have gone a bit over budget on a dress for Pepper, but, it was hard not to want to splurge a little on his friends when they had done so much to help him recover this past year. Luckily it turned out Pepper was his Secret Santa so he didn’t feel quite so bad having spent a little more than he planned on her, especially when she had always been so generous with her own money in regards to Bucky’s wardrobe and health. It was a pretty blue and silver silk number he thought would look wonderful with her fiery red hair and Tony would surely agree once she unwrapped it. 

He’s grinning a little when he hands the present off to her but he’s instantly wary when a smirking Natasha hands him her gift. 

“Merry Christmas, I’m your Secret Santa,” she purrs and Bucky thinks it’s fair to be suspicious of the otherwise innocent seeming box on his lap. He can see Sam receiving his gift from Bruce and Steve accepting one from Jane and wonders if this entire system was rigged against him.

“Is it something I can open in decent company?” he asks with a warning tone to his voice, tearing back the wrapping paper and lifting the top of the box just enough to peek inside. Nothing exploded and there weren’t any questionable smells or sounds, which was a good start. 

He opens it a little wider and is confused when all he sees is a square of bright blue. Considering he’d been expecting some terrifying sort of sex toy or spike heels or a knife he was almost alarmed by the seeming innocence of this gift. 

“Did you get me a shirt or something?” he muses, reaching into the box and pulling out what was inside. It’s bigger than he expected and he holds it up so it can unravel towards the floor.

A hush falls over the room, save Clint’s sniggering, and Bucky looks over his gift to stare at Natasha, eyebrows raised in silent judgment.

“Where on earth did you even find something like this, Nat?”

He can hear Steve’s choked off whine of dismay when he gets a good look at the full length digital rendering of himself on the five foot long pillow case, his uniform in tatters and exposing most of his impressive musculature. Even though his crotch and hips are covered by the remains of the ruined uniform the bulge doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.

“You haven’t even seen the entire thing, yet,” she snickers and Bucky turns it over to reveal an equally disheveled and exposed Sam, his wings sprawling out from beneath him but the rest of the tactical gear he had worn during the battle against Hydra in DC otherwise ripped and missing. 

Sam laughs when he looks over Bucky’s shoulder to see the drawing of himself, clearly pleased that the artist added several pounds of muscle to his shoulders and abdomen.

“People make these things and actually sleep with them?” Sam chuckles, taking the pillowcase and flipping it back over to see Steve’s picture, winking at the embarrassed super soldier sitting beside them. 

“Fans are gonna do what fans are gonna do. Hey, Nat, did they have other members of the Avengers, too?” Tony demands, reaching out to snag the pillowcase from Sam only to have his hand swatted away by Bucky.

“You get your own, this one is mine.”

He steals it back from Sam and folds it neatly back into the box, smirking at Natasha. He was going to have to reevaluate that sweater he had bought for her. 

That night he stuffs two pillows into the case and curls himself around it with his face buried between the impressive roundness of pillow!Steve’s pectorals, out cold before Sam and Steve even finish brushing their teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend has a gorgeous (and slightly more clothed than Bucky's) Steve bodypillow by soltian that always shares the bed with us when we're at cons oops.


	21. Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky teach Sam how to ice skate at Rockefeller Center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rockefeller Center and the ice rink opened in 1936. I couldn't find anything about what the expense might have been like back then and I've only ever briefly seen the ice rink in person, so forgive any mistakes/inaccuracies if you're a NYC native.
> 
> Additionally I apologize for the continued delays in updates. My job tends to eat me alive this time of year and that combined with some semblance of a social life makes regular updates for things super difficult. This fic WILL be finished it just might take a little bit longer, especially with inventory at the store over the next three days. Thank you for your patience!

“Somehow this sounded like a much better idea in the car than it does right now,” Sam admits, his feet wobbling in their skates as he clutches to the side of the ice rink, shooting the other two men rather unimpressed looks at the way they easily skate circles around him. 

“It’s really not that difficult, Sam, you’re just over thinking it,” Steve teases, trying to pry the unwilling soldier away from the wall without much success. Bucky snorts with laughter at that and reaches out to help Steve tug Sam out onto the ice, keeping him upright with ease between them until he gets his feet under him.

“That sounds a lot like the advice I gave you back in the day.”

Steve shrugs at that and gives Sam a little push, wincing when Sam immediately wobbles and falls backwards, arms windmilling desperately at his sides until he hits the ice with a thud. 

“What? You mean Captain Perfect over here wasn’t always automatically excellent at everything he ever did?” Sam grouses, accepting Bucky’s help back up onto his feet and immediately latching onto his metal arm for balance. 

Bucky snickers and slips his arm around Sam’s waist to hold him close against his side, supporting his weight while he takes a few experimental glides forward.

“Nah, Steve used to be terrible at ice skating. We saved up all our pennies to afford to come to this place when it opened in ’36. We did the skating, got dinner at one of the rinkside restaurants, the works, and lemme tell you the bruises this boy was sportin’ by the time we got back home. I thought his Ma was gonna box my ears for not making him quit sooner.”

Steve had the grace to at least look embarrassed at that, boxing Sam in on the other side and curling his arm around Sam’s hips just below Bucky’s, keeping him steady so he could slide along more than actually skate, propelled forward by their shared momentum.

“You say this like you’re surprised I was a stubborn shit. You know I never responded well to being told I can’t do something,” Steve points out, nose wrinkling when Sam and Bucky respond with matching barks of amusement.

“No kidding,” Sam chuckles under his breath and shakes his head, willing the wobbly shake of his ankles to steady so he doesn’t make a complete fool of himself in front of the entire ice rink. 

It’s as if Steve heard his inner thoughts, however, and Sam yelps when the super soldier hauls him up into his arms like he’s a damsel in distress, cradling him bridal style against his chest as he glides effortlessly across the ice. Sam can hear Bucky howling with laughter through his dismayed shouts for Steve to put him down, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at the spectacle they’re no doubt making of themselves. 

Steve all but pirouettes on the ice, no doubt just to rub it in both their faces that he _can_ before he finally grinds to a halt and lets Sam back down, only to shoot out and grab his waist when Sam’s feet threaten to shoot out from under him again. 

His face is pink with the cold and there’s a breathless quality to the grin he’s giving Sam, eyes crinkling fondly at the corners in a way that makes Sam’s insides squirm with delight. It only gets better when Bucky skates up behind them and slides his arms around Sam’s waist, dropping a chilly kiss to the curve of his neck. 

“Let’s say we get out of here and find ourselves a hotel for the next couple of hours? Somewhere with a nice big Jacuzzi in the room and champagne?” Bucky growls against Sam’s ear and Sam looks up at Steve to see that he’s definitely in agreement with this plan, tugging Sam and Bucky a fraction closer to his chest. 

“I suppose since we’ll be moving up here as part of the Avengers, now, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to teach Sam how to ice skate,” Steve says slowly, as if he really has to consider what Bucky’s suggesting. 

Bucky smirks and nuzzles another kiss against Sam’s earlobe, making him shiver before he skates backwards away from them both, a wicked curve to his lips.

“I’ll let you take turns fucking me in the bath tub. Bend over the edge so sweet and wanting so you can lick me clean after each time.”

Bucky doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know they’re both eagerly skating after him, gliding easily towards the exit with his arms folded behind his back.

And they say _he’s_ the easy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point when I have more energy I might actually write out the hotel scene.


	22. Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve decide to leave New York City early when Bucky has a string of violent nightmares. On their way back to DC Sam takes Steve and Bucky on a detour to a Christmas theme park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the theme park the boys end up at is based on the real Santa's Village, a Christmas themed amusement park in the northern part of New Hampshire that I'm particularly familiar with. If you live in the area and are fond of Christmas/have kids I highly recommend giving it a visit when winter comes around next year because it's a lot of fun.
> 
> I'm not at all familiar with the area between NYC and DC so I can't say if there's anything of the sort in that location, so, this theme park is a figment of my imagination for the sake of the story.
> 
> Day 22: Reindeer

Sam had never been one for theme parks or roller coasters. He liked the carnivals that occasionally came through town when he was smaller but actual parks weren’t really his thing.

After spending three hours sitting in place on the New Jersey Turnpike because a thirty car pileup had blocked the entire highway in both directions, however, Sam is almost grateful to see the cartoonish bubble letters advertising a Christmas themed amusement park called “Santa’s Village.”

He takes one look at the rearview mirror and the reflection of a pale, shivering Bucky being cradled against Steve’s chest and turns onto the exit, following the signs that guide him towards the park. 

“Sam?” Steve asks quietly, clearly curious as to what exactly the other man has planned. They were only a couple more hours away from home and thought they had both agreed on speed rather than comfort for the rest of the ride. 

Bucky wasn’t terribly fond of transportation, though, cars were a step above public transit and the way it made him feel trapped and cornered. But three hours crammed into the van and surrounded in every direction by an endless sea of cars hadn’t done him any favors, especially not when the night before had been restless and disturbed by nightmares. There wasn’t always an obvious reason for the bad dreams. Sometimes they just happened and there was little Sam or Steve could do except wake Bucky up when he had one and do their best to make him feel safe in the aftermath.

Sam and Steve had agreed to leave the city a few days early and head back to the familiar safety of their home in DC in the morning. It was important to all of them that Bucky had a good Christmas this year and there was no guarantee that the nightmares wouldn’t continue into the next night, or the next, if they stayed through the holiday. 

Natasha kisses them on the cheek and sends them off with a sad smile but Sam knows she understands the need for them to take an early departure. She makes them promise that next year they’ll have a Christmas together and Bucky gives her a shaky hug, swearing that it will happen. 

Sam had secretly wished she and Clint were in the car with them when they finally drive by the wreckage of the pileup and Bucky’s eyes go so big it’d be comical if the situation weren’t so serious. He started to panic and struggle to escape the car which resulted in Steve all but throwing himself into the back seat to try and calm the upset man, wrapping him up in his arms and whispering soothing words against his ear. Sam hates that he’s unable to pull over and join them in the back seat but the traffic and proximity of the massive pileup make it impossible. 

And then Steve shoots him a look that silently begs him to drive faster and Sam resigns himself to the aching pain of having to watch, helpless, as Steve alone tries to go through breathing exercises and grounding techniques with Bucky. 

Bucky’s panicked sobs about Hydra coming and needing to escape have subsided by the time Sam makes the choice to pull off the highway and towards the theme park but he’s still pale and hollow eyed when Sam parks the car, his hands shaking around fistfuls of Steve’s coat. 

“Sam, where are we?” Steve asks quietly as Sam tugs the back door open and helps Bucky out of the car, watching the way Bucky melts into the tight wrap of Sam’s arms around him.

“Santa’s Village. A park all about Christmas and holiday spirit,” Sam quotes the sign he’d seen, using his sleeve to blot away the tears that still lingered damp on Bucky’s cheeks. Bucky leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, relaxing when gentle fingers start combing through his hair. 

Steve seems less than pleased with this development, however, and climbs out of the car after them, slamming the door shut behind him and shooting Sam a look.

“You think this is what he needs right now? Screaming kids and a crowd of people?” he hisses, folding his arms over his chest and peering sourly around at the parking lot. It didn’t seem terribly full and Steve supposes Mondays aren’t really a high traffic day for theme parks, but, the point still remains. 

Sam squares his jaw stubbornly and guides Bucky around to the trunk so he can dig out a coat and hat for him, zipping the warm fleece right up to Bucky’s chin. It’s not quite as freezing as it’d been in New York but Sam would bet it was at least in the low 30s, certainly cold enough to get them all sick if they didn’t bundle up.

Bucky, despite Steve’s protests, actually seems to perk up a bit when Sam ties a scarf around his face, taking in the cartoonish red and green lettering of the sign over the park entrance. His hands aren’t shaking anymore when he tugs on the black mittens Sam gives him and he looks entranced by the brightly painted statues of elves and reindeer flanking the green wooden fencing along the park. 

Sam shoots Steve a look that says ‘see’, bundling up with his own scarf and hat before tangling his fingers with Bucky’s, car keys jammed into his pocket.

“I think this is exactly what he needs. Something normal and safe and _fun_ ,” Sam says firmly, stepping back and gesturing at their bags in the trunk with a sweeping motion that invites Steve to grab his own winter coat and gloves.

“You’re welcome to join us.”

He starts towards the park with Bucky in tow and is pleased when he hears Steve’s rapid footfalls behind them, moving over just enough so that Steve can wedge himself in on Bucky’s other side, sandwiching the man between them. 

Sam pays for three outrageously overpriced tickets and when they emerge on the other end of the ticket booth he feels vindicated by the focused look of wonder on Bucky’s face. It’s a far cry better than the dazed, resigned look of despair he’d had in the car. Sam knows Steve and Bucky used to visit Coney Island when they were kids but it’s been over seventy years since then and Sam’s pretty sure this is the first time Bucky’s been to a place like this since before the War.

By the time they’re sitting inside a warm café with hot drinks and gingerbread cookies with cups of frosting and sprinkles to use for decorating Steve seems to have defrosted a bit from his earlier anger with Sam, his eyes crinkled fondly at the corners while they watch Bucky slather dark green frosting across his cookie. 

He reaches out to take Sam’s hand and squeezes, conveying a silent apology for snapping at him in the parking lot. Sam offers him a forgiving smile and pulls Steve’s hand up to his lips for a kiss, glad that they managed to smooth things over relatively early on in their day. They both know the other was just trying to help Bucky and it wasn’t worth ruining the rest of the afternoon.

“I made Bruce,” Bucky declares from beside them and Sam looks down to see the gingerbread cookie has been entirely painted in green frosting, red frosting used to make little shorts and sprinkles to form a face and hair. 

Sam laughs and picks up his own frosting, managing to create a vague, messy semblance to Tony’s Iron Man suit by the time Steve finishes his own.

“Who on earth is that supposed to be?” Sam asks around a mouthful of gingerbread, washing it down with a swig of hot spiced apple cider. Steve smirks and holds up his cookie, painted with white, pulling an amused bark of laughter from Bucky.

“It’s Olaf, your favorite movie character.”

If Steve’s cookie happens to end up on his lap after that then that’s his own fault, really. 

They pointedly steer clear of all the rides for now, though, Sam does let Bucky coax them into squishing onto the thing that resembles a ski lift and takes them on an aerial tour around the park, the former assassin leaning over the safety bar so he can see all the things they haven’t done yet. 

They’re edging towards dinner time when their tour of the park ends with a visit to the reindeer enclosure near the back and Sam fills a plastic cup with pellets from the machine for Bucky, taking a moment to watch the almost reverent way Bucky approaches the fence. With the evening approaching most of the families with kids have left for the evening and they’re virtually the only ones left milling around the enclosure, much to Sam’s relief. Fighting off small children isn’t really high on his list of enjoyable holiday activities.

Sam nudges up behind Bucky and smiles when he holds out a handful of pellets towards the closest reindeer, Steve standing at Bucky’s side with a warm look on his face at the rapt expression on his face. 

It transforms into sheer delight at the curious nuzzle the reindeer gives his hand before lipping at the food he’s holding, standing patiently still for Bucky when he reaches out to give him a tentative pat between the antlers.

“I think he likes you,” Steve chuckles, giving Bucky another handful of pellets so he can continue feeding the reindeer. He’d give him the moon right now if it meant Bucky would keep smiling like that. 

They stay at the park until the announcement is made that it’s closing and Steve wants to sigh with relief when Bucky climbs easily into the backseat of the car, offering to drive so Sam can slide into the back with him this time. 

Bucky’s far more relaxed than Steve would have thought possible after a night full of nightmares and half a day spent on the edge of panic and he watches in the rearview mirror as Bucky tips himself against Sam’s side, eyes closed and face smoothed over with contentment. 

“Thanks for today,” he hears Bucky whisper and Steve’s mouth quirks into a smile when Sam leans down to press a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. 

He waits until Bucky’s out cold, deaf to the world after getting virtually no sleep the previous night, before he speaks. 

“I’m sorry I was such an ass earlier. You made the right call and I honestly don’t know where Bucky or I would be if we didn’t have you,” Steve says in a quiet voice, unable to stop the smile spreading over his mouth with Sam starts to chuckle from the back seat.

“Yeah, you were kind of an ass. Lucky for you I’m too smart and stubborn to be dissuaded, even by a man who could bench press me without breaking a sweat,” Sam teases, combing his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair as he slept. 

Steve laughs at that, too, and they subside into a comfortable silence once more as Steve merges off the highway, fingers absently tapping out the rhythm of one of the Christmas songs that had been playing all day at the park. 

“I’m serious, though, Sam. Thanks. For everything.”

When they finally make it home and collapse into bed Bucky sleeps through the night without a single nightmare.


	23. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a blanket fort and pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so slow at finishing this! Work sucks. I promise it will be finished no matter what.
> 
> In the mean time I did write another part within this OT3 series, ["To Get Me Through The Night"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3178208), that takes place before this Christmas series but after 'Til We Lose Control and features couch cuddling, Sleepytime Peach tea, and some Samcentric h/c.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for being patient with me! c': 
> 
> Today has been a rough day so I kinda just needed blatant cuddle nonsense fluff.

Bucky’s exhausted.

The kind of bone deep exhaustion that makes you want to just lie down and never get back up again, or perhaps drown yourself in a shower until the end of time. 

He does his best to sleep once he, Steve, and Sam finally pull into the garage and practically fall into bed, still in their jeans and sweaters. It had been a better day than he could’ve hoped for after the night that preceded it. He can still taste the spice of cinnamon on his tongue from the hot cider they had drunk at the park, and feel the biting chill of the winter air on exposed skin. 

Sam and Steve curl around him and do their best to stay awake until Bucky falls asleep first, but, they’re ultimately unable to resist the beckoning of sleep for a second night in a row. They snore softly while Bucky fidgets, unable to get comfortable despite the gentle, reassuring tangle of arms and legs on either side of him. 

The nightmares are still too close and too real to allow sleep just yet. He remembers the knotted pile of metal they had driven by on the highway yesterday. 

He remembers being responsible for similar pileups and accidents. 

Bucky extricates himself from where he’d buried himself between Steve’s pectorals to hide from the rising sun outside the window and slithers out of bed as quietly as he can, trading his rumpled jeans and sweater for a soft pair of Steve’s sweatpants and one of Sam’s t-shirts, practically crawling towards the empty hearth with exhaustion sitting heavy in the pit of his belly. There’s still a stack of wood on the mat beside it waiting to be used and it doesn’t take too much effort before he has a fire going, brilliant reds and oranges of heat and light that invite Bucky to curl up in a ball on the carpet. 

He likes the fire because it’s the polar opposite of the spreading frost and lonely darkness of the cryo storage container he spent much of the last seventy years occupying. If there was a safe way to crawl inside the hearth and envelop himself in the reassuring warmth then Bucky would have done it months ago. 

There’s the sound of footsteps in the hallway and Bucky doesn’t open his eyes when gentle hands are coaxing him upright enough to get a pillow under his head. Whoever it is leaves him to lie there in peace for a bit and it isn’t until Bucky smells brown sugar and blueberries does he realize that 1) it’s probably Sam, and 2) there’s gonna be breakfast and breakfast means coffee. 

He manages to push himself up into a sitting position before Sam is emerging from the kitchen with a tray full of food and three massive cups presumably (hopefully) filled with something dark and very strong. 

“Figured you could use a pick me up,” Sam says with a smile, settling down beside Bucky and putting the tray on the carpet between them. Bucky drinks in the sight of blueberry pancakes and bacon, mouth watering at the salty sweet scent of it. Sam made the best pancakes – something about using brown sugar instead of white sugar like his Mom always did – and it’d take a stronger man than Bucky not to immediately take a plate and pile it high with the fluffy cakes, slathering butter and syrup across the entire thing. 

They eat in companionable silence for a while and Bucky even feels a smile creep across tired lips when Sam feeds him strips of bacon and sausage with syrup sticky fingers Bucky gets to lick clean afterwards. He doesn’t realize Steve isn’t here until he hauls himself up to help Sam do the dishes, confused as to how a man of Steve’s size managed to sneak past him while he was awake. 

“He went to the store to pick up a few things we’ll need for our Christmas dinner, and some stuff to fill our fridge back up with after our vacation,” Sam explains with a shrug, taking the handful of wet silverware from Bucky and drying it before he slots them back into their drawer. 

“In the meantime,” he adds, catching Bucky’s attention from where he’d been watching the soapy water swirl down the drain, “I think it wouldn’t be amiss to make a blanket fort in the living room.”

Bucky shoots him a highly skeptical look and cocks his head to the side, using the dish towel to rub the water from his metal hand. 

“A blanket fort? Aren’t we kind of, I don’t know.. old for making blanket forts?” he asks bemusedly, relenting when Sam tugs him towards their bedroom to collect the blankets from their bed and out of the closet. He accepts the pile of quilts he’s handed without a word and mutely follows Sam back out into the living room, watching as he started to rearrange the furniture with intense focus. 

The couch is pulled closer to the fireplace and the arm chairs are tugged in on other side to create a fairly large square of space, which Sam then widens using chairs he drags in from the dining room. By the time Bucky helps him fling the last blanket over the exoskeleton they had created he has to admit this is actually kind of fun. 

They bring Sam’s laptop and an assortment of junk food into the warm enclosed space they’ve created and even the uncomfortable darkness, lightened somewhat by the glow of the fire just outside, is chased away entirely by the bright light of Sam’s computer screen, propped up on a couple books while they curl up in the nest of blankets and pillows they’d made inside their fort. 

Sam spoons comfortably up against his back and they get most of the way through the first _Jurassic Park_ movie before Bucky hears the sound of the garage door signaling Steve’s return from the store. When he pokes his head out between the flaps of their fort he’s amused to see that Steve doesn’t look at all surprised to discover what they had been up to in his presence. He has a couple bags of groceries on his arms that look like they’re filled with junk food and one of them definitely bears the logo of the movie rental place in town. 

“You two planned this, didn’t you?” he says accusingly but there’s no real venom in his voice when Steve hands him an enormous cup of what smells like a Starbucks peppermint mocha latte by way of response. Steve hands him and Sam the bags so he can go change into shorts and a t-shirt before he crawls into the fort to join them, stealing a kiss from Bucky that tastes like candy canes and chocolate chip cookies. 

“It’s not Christmas if you don’t have a blanket fort in the living room,” Steve argues and Bucky isn’t really quite sure where he got that idea, but, he’s not about to argue when Steve pulls him close to cuddle against his chest and hits play on the movie again. 

Bucky can hear the fire crackling on the other side of the wall of blankets and wonders if it’s as happy as he is in that moment. Exhaustion creeps into his body, aided by the heavy warmth of the coffee Steve had brought him, and he lets his eyes fall shut, turning his face to bury it into the warm hollow of Steve’s throat. He’ll just rest for a little while. Surely there won’t be any nightmares if he just… takes a short nap.

He doesn’t catch the end of the movie. Or the movie after that. Steve and Sam trade relieved, triumphant smiles over his sleeping body when they notice halfway through the second Jurassic Park that he’s out cold. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and they want Bucky rested and comfortable for what they have planned. 

Sam and Steve allow their own eyelids to droop and silently, mutually agree that a nap doesn’t sound like a half bad way to spend the rest of the afternoon. 

The fireplace glows contently outside their fort of blankets. Even it doesn’t have the heart to intrude upon the comfortable silence that has settled over the house. 

Bucky makes a noise in his sleep and tosses an arm haphazardly across Steve’s chest, leaning backwards into the blazing heat of Sam pressed up against his back. 

Outside, it begins to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If emotional crying over Bucky Barnes and odes to Sam Wilson's face are your thing (or you wanna come poke me about this series/my OT3 feelings in general) you can find me on tumblr [here.](http://buckybarnnes.tumblr.com)


	24. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bucky decorate a supersoldier sized gingerbread man. (And then fuck his brains out.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't recommend putting icing on your ding dong unless you want an infection/UTI, but, luckily Steve is immune to boring human diseases. 
> 
> This chapter also features a rare and elusive bottom!Steve, because I was in the mood to write Steve begging to be fucked to within an inch of his life. 
> 
> Just Christmas Day left and this will finally be done dear god I'm terrible at updating on time. Thanks for reading!

Now, Sam usually has some pretty good ideas. He’s definitely, arguably, the smartest one of their little trio, but, Bucky would put money on this being his best idea to date.

Steve looks deliciously, sinfully edible, spread out on their bed like a buffet just waiting to be partaken of. Sam is kneeling on the opposite side of Steve’s prone form and there are bowls and packages surrounding all three of them, filled with a variety of icings and decorations usually meant for sweets. 

Sam, who had taken Bucky to the grocery store that morning because Steve forgot to get gravy for their Christmas dinner, and thoughtfully eyeballed the display of gingerbread making kits, sharing a meaningful look with him that conveyed his plan just as easily as words. Sam, who had used Stark’s Black Card to purchase enough icing, food coloring, and sprinkles to decorate an entire army of gingerbread men. 

They weren’t decorating any cookies today, though. Not when they had a super soldier sized gingerbread who had been more than happy to take his clothes off and sprawl across their bed when ordered, watching them both in heated anticipation as they set up their work station. 

Sam was the one who said it was only fair they were also naked and Bucky certainly wasn’t about to disagree, grinning at the way Steve’s body responded eagerly to the sight of them looming over him. 

“You’re by far my favorite Christmas treat,” Bucky teases, running his fingers through the tub of blue colored icing they had created and smearing it across one of Steve’s nipples. Steve may feel little physical sensation from having his nipples played with but that doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t enjoy the hell out of getting to lean down and noisily slurp the entire mess off in one smooth lick. The wet sucking sound Bucky makes does far more for Steve than the actual act of cleaning him off, if the way Steve’s hips jump is anything to go by. 

Bucky grins at him and leans across Steve’s body to kiss Sam, sloppily sharing the sticky sweet icing between their mouths until Steve is whining pitifully, already reaching up towards them.

Before he can open his mouth to speak, though, Bucky plants a hand over it, a wicked look on his face that Sam mirrors with ease.

“No talking. Cookies don’t talk, or move,” Sam instructs, scooping up some of the white icing and using it to make a star on the center of Steve’s chest. Bucky removes his palm from Steve’s face and slides over him to straddle his thighs, pointedly keeping away from the thickening length of Steve’s cock.

“If you’re good and let us decorate you then we’ll fuck your brains out once we’ve licked you clean,” Bucky hums airily, leaning down to lay a teasing bite on the jut of Steve’s hipbone. He gets a silent, desperate nod in answer and grins, grabbing one of the squeeze tubes of blue icing off the bed. 

“Good boy.”

He uses the tube to fill in the space around the white star with blue, mouth curving into a mischievous smile when Sam catches on to what he’s doing. It fades a little, however, when Sam starts to form a ring of red around the blue and Bucky’s hand shoots out to grab at his wrist, stopping him before he gets more than a few inches along.

“I think, perhaps.. no red,” Bucky mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose between metal fingers to try and silence the beginning throb of a headache. He looks away from Steve, who has gone from aroused to concerned in the time it took him to realize something was wrong, and waits for Sam to carefully scrape the few blobs of red back into their tub before he risks a peek. He’s relieved to see Sam had been attentive enough to cover what smears of red he couldn’t get off with more blue and Bucky offers the former Airman a shaky, grateful smile, going easily when he’s tugged into a reassuring kiss.

“Maybe we’ll try red again some other time, yeah? When you feel up to it?” Steve offers softly, reaching up to gently squeeze Bucky’s knee, thumb stroking reassuring circles into the rough skin, and Bucky falls in love with them both all over again because they act like this is another thing Bucky is capable of overcoming. Like they truly believe that Bucky can surmount any Hydra sized obstacle in his path. 

They don’t treat him like he’s weak, or broken. They treat him like someone who is healing. Like someone who can, and will, get better. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs back, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small smile when Sam cups a hand against his cheek and leans in to nudge their foreheads together, “I’d like that.”

The red icing gets put on the bedside table and Bucky contemplates the blue framed white star on Steve’s chest, his expression thoughtful. He decides on green and before long he and Sam have given up on any semblance of order or structure to Steve’s decorations, planting blobs of icing wherever they think they’ll be fun to lick off. 

Bucky scooches himself back enough so that he can start working on Steve’s thighs and hips, grinning wickedly when Steve’s cock twitches at the warm line of blue icing Bucky has smeared along the underside. He decorates the crown with white icing and uses his fingers to paint Steve’s balls with more of the white, pleased at the way Steve is struggling to keep himself still, now. It probably isn’t helping that Sam’s currently sucking a line of yellow frosting off his throat. 

The sprinkles that he and Sam had also purchased lay forgotten in their eagerness to get started and Bucky tosses the tube of frosting aside so he can lean down and start licking away the blue star he had painted on Steve’s thigh, pinning his leg down when he can’t help but squirm beneath him and Sam. 

“Be good and let us clean you up and then we’ll fuck you. Wait your turn, Rogers,” Sam growls playfully against Steve’s nipple, pink and puffy from being cleaned rather aggressively by teeth and tongue. Steve whines pitifully at the order, but, nods in quiet submission to it, hands fisting in the blankets to keep them from grabbing at Bucky’s hair.

Bucky switches to the other thigh and is, perhaps, a little rougher than is necessary to clean off a layer of icing, but, he likes the sight of purple-red bruises on Steve’s skin almost as much as he likes them on his own, laving his tongue across the sore spots when he’s done.

He skips the layer of icing that covers Steve’s groin in favor of helping Sam clean away the blue ringed star on Steve’s chest, pausing between mouthfuls to lick their way into one another’s mouth, sharing the taste of sugar and Steve that lingers. Only when Steve makes another pitiful noise of want does Bucky relent and curl over to kiss him, too, plunging his tongue past Steve’s lips to dominate the kiss and forcing Steve to submit to his attentions, tweaking a sore nipple just to feel him squirm. 

“Want Sam to lick your balls clean?” Bucky hums, biting along Steve’s jaw before he buries his face in his throat, teeth scraping across sensitive skin, “Want him to put his mouth on you and suck you until you’re begging for his cock?”

Steve groans and tightens his hands around the blankets to keep himself steady, head tipping back to bare more skin to Bucky.

“Yes, please,” he whimpers, opening up eagerly when Bucky crashes their mouths together once more. Bucky straddles his chest while Sam nudges his way between Steve’s thighs, shoving them up with his hands in the crook of his knees to keep him spread open wide. 

It was rare that they managed to get Steve so pliant and begging beneath them. He was generally, quite enthusiastically, a top in every sense of the word, while Sam tended to float somewhere in the middle, and although Bucky was more than happy to be fucked stupid by both men on a regular basis he did enjoy, now and then, the opportunity to return the favor. 

He knows the instant Sam’s got his mouth on Steve because Steve all but sobs with need, his body starting to shake beneath Bucky’s thighs. Bucky can tell he’s struggling not to come and rewards him with a purple bruise on the soft skin of his throat, tossing a look over his shoulder to watch Sam swallow Steve’s cock down. 

“You can come when I give you permission. Once Sam gets you all cleaned up,” Bucky murmurs, swallowing Steve’s broken moans with a harsh kiss, dragging his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He counts to ten, giving Sam enough time to lick the remaining icing from Steve’s dick, before he breaks the kiss and sinks his teeth into the curve of Steve’s neck again, sucking hard to raise another aching lovebite to the surface.

“Come for us, Stevie.”

Bucky isn’t sure he even finishes his sentence before Steve is coming down Sam’s throat, sobbing with pleasure against Bucky’s cheek, his breathing harsh and ragged. Bucky twists himself around so he can kiss Sam and share Steve’s orgasm between them, salty sweet from the icing.

They silently agree to switch positions and Sam curls over Steve to fuck his mouth with his tongue while Bucky shoves Steve’s thighs up and open, grinning at the small, dusky pucker that’s exposed to his attentions. 

“It’s been ages since you got fucked good and proper. Sam n’ I are gonna leave you open and dripping with us by the time we’re done with you. Hold your legs up for me, Stevie,” Bucky growls, waiting until Steve’s hooking his hands under his knees before he’s taking the lube from Sam and thoroughly slicking his flesh fingers, not terribly keen on having to clean lube from between the plating of his metal one. It’s not just dirty talk that Steve hasn’t been fucked in a while, though. It’s been months, as far as Bucky can remember, and he doesn’t want to hurt him with sloppy preparation. 

Heedless of any mess, Bucky dribbles lube across Steve’s hole before he tosses the bottle aside for later, smearing the cherry scented fluid around the twitching pucker and carefully easing a slippery digit inside, rubbing at Steve’s inner walls as he goes to try and loosen him up. His body is relaxed after coming and opens up eagerly to Bucky’s touch, clenching around the second and third fingers when they push their way inside. It doesn’t take much effort before Bucky’s got four fingers fucking into Steve’s body, wrenching strangled moans of pleasure and incoherent pleading for more from the man beneath him. Sam’s been tormenting his nipples this entire time and they’re red and swollen, now, from his attentions, sore looking even from this distance. His cock is already hard from Bucky fingering him open and leaking slick in sticky clear pools against his belly. 

“Since Sam was generous enough to suck your dick earlier, I think it’s only fair you return the favor,” Bucky croons, removing his fingers from inside of Steve so he can guide him over onto his knees, watching the way he nuzzles his face between Sam’s thighs when Sam kneels in front of him. 

Bucky pours more lube into his palm and fists it around his own cock, groaning at the slick glide. He guides himself to Steve’s hole and takes a deep breath to calm himself before this ends a lot sooner than any of them wanted. 

When he pushes inside, though, it’s better than Bucky ever remembered and he leans down to press his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades to calm himself, whimpering at the slippery heat of Steve’s body swallowing him in deep. 

It’s been ages since he’s been inside someone and Steve was always virgin tight whenever they did this, clenching sweetly around Bucky’s cock as he fucked him. This time is no exception and Bucky carefully comes out from his hiding space against Steve’s back, pressing a soothing kiss to the sweat damp flesh.

“So goddamn good, Stevie. Take my cock like a pro, tight as a fucking _vice_ ,” Bucky groans, stilling himself when his hips are snug against Steve’s ass and watching as Sam guides his cock between Steve’s lips, entranced by the easy way Steve swallows him down. 

“Christ. You were made for this, weren’t you?” Sam hisses, petting the bulge of his dick through Steve’s cheek before burying a hand in his hair to keep him still, giving a shallow thrust into his open mouth. 

Bucky digs his knees into the bed for leverage and withdraws from inside Steve until only the tip of his cock is inside that snug heat, relishing the welcoming clench of his hole before snapping back in, setting a hard, brutal pace he knows Steve can take. Sam uses the momentum of Bucky’s fucking to thrust his own cock down Steve’s throat, pinning Steve between them while they use him for their own pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie, just look at you. So fucking _good_ ,” Bucky snarls, punctuating the last word with a harsh slap of his hips against Steve’s ass, digging his fingers into the narrow part of his waist until bruises start to form beneath his touch.

And Steve eats up every single word of praise with a muffled moan of need, letting Sam and Bucky bounce him between their cocks like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do for the rest of his life.

Bucky uses his knees to spread Steve’s legs even wider and jackrabbits himself against Steve’s prostate, sinking his thumbs into the meat of his ass to spread him open wide and watch his cock bury into the slick heat of the other man. 

A sharp, shattered sob tears from Steve’s throat and his ass clenches tight as a vice around Bucky’s cock as they fuck a second orgasm out of him, cock drooling white on his skin while it slaps against his belly with each rough thrust of Bucky’s hips. The sudden squeeze is all it takes to push Bucky the rest of the way over the edge with him, shoving himself forward hard enough into Steve that he’s pushed face first into the mattress between Sam’s knees, ass held up by Bucky’s hands on his hips. 

Bucky rocks inside of him to milk every last bit of his own orgasm before withdrawing, pleased at the way Steve’s hole clenches hungrily around the sudden emptiness.

“Don’t worry, baby.. Sam’s gonna fill your greedy little ass up nice and good,” Bucky soothes, kissing a tired line up his spine as Sam moves around to take his position between Steve’s spread knees. 

He sits up just in time to watch Sam’s cock sinking into Steve’s body, sprawling beside Steve so he can tilt his head sideways for a kiss, tasting Sam on Steve’s tongue. He curls a hand around his own cock and strokes it lazily, wondering if he can get it up one more time before Sam and Steve orgasm. 

The sight of Steve’s face, flush red and shiny with sweat, twisted with pleasure, mouth swollen, is certainly helping and Bucky can’t resist the urge to drag him back down for another biting kiss, feeling every single one of Sam’s thrusts. Bucky pulls himself up far enough to swing a leg over Steve’s back so Steve’s face is between his thighs, guiding him with a gentle hand to take Bucky’s length between his puffy lips. Steve swallows him down his throat and Bucky moans at the silky wet heat around the sensitive head, stroking Steve’s hair in silent reward. 

Steve’s whimpering moan vibrates through Bucky’s cock and straight up his spine, which means Sam has found his prostate and is aiming his thrusts against it, now, fucking the oversensitive gland to try and drag one last orgasm out of Steve before Sam comes himself. 

Bucky pushes Steve off his cock and strips it with rapid jerks of his own hand, gently pushing the sweaty flop of Steve’s bangs back from his forehead with a fond look on his face. 

“Come one last time for us, Stevie. Just one more and then you’re done,” Bucky murmurs, cupping metal fingers under Steve’s chin to hold his face up. Steve’s third orgasm is coupled with a soft, ragged sob and Sam fucks him through it before stilling his hips against Steve’s ass and coming inside him with a wet, squelching sound. 

Bucky surveys both of them with an air of smug contentment, aiming his cock at Steve’s face in time to paint white stripes across his cheeks and lips that Steve chases with tired darts of his tongue, moaning at the salty taste of Bucky’s release. When Bucky releases his grip on his chin Steve sags forward to collapse against Bucky’s belly, thighs quivering before they also give out, unable to care that he’s planted himself in his own wet spot. 

Sam’s grinning just as widely as Bucky is and they both watch as Bucky slides his fingers through his own come and feeds it to Steve, who obediently parts tired lips to lap away the streaks of white from Bucky’s skin. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” Bucky croons, taking the damp washcloth Sam returns from the bathroom with and helping him scrub the sweat, come, and sticky remains of icing from Steve’s skin, coaxing the exhausted soldier over onto his back. Bucky snorts with laughter at the face Steve makes when the come rushes out from inside of him at the movement, cleaning his second climax from Steve’s face. 

“How do you think I feel on those days you decide to come in me more than once?” Bucky teases, grinning when Sam lands a playful swat on Steve’s ass that elicits a tired whining noise from the blond. 

“Yeah, yeah… Merry Christmas to you, too, jerk,” Steve grumbles, spreading his legs so Sam can clean the lube and come from his entrance. Sam hums in contented agreement and presses a kiss to the bend of Steve’s knee, scrubbing at the remains of icing that got stuck in the soft fuzz of hair on his thigh. 

Christmas was finally here.


	25. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally Christmas and nobody has any plans to change out of their pajamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god don't even look at me I'm appalled this took so long to finish. But, as you all know, life.
> 
> At least we finally made it here and I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks to everyone for all your kind words and encouragement along the way. :')
> 
> I am mildly proud I managed to somehow end this on exactly 40k. (It may have been by design once I realized how close it was when I started the final chapter. Oops!)

The first thing Bucky realizes when he wakes up is that the bed is glaringly empty, the sheets sticking to his skin from the mess they had made in them last night. The second thing he notes is that the entire house smells like pancakes and that’s more than enough to drag him out of the bedroom, a pair of Sam’s sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He grins when he rounds the corner and sees Steve and Sam have gotten distracted from their breakfast making by one another’s mouths, Steve’s hands slyly ghosting down Sam’s back to cup his ass through his boxers. 

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” Bucky teases, leaning against the door frame to watch as the pair of them separate with matching looks of embarrassment. 

“We, uh. We wanted to surprise you with breakfast,” Steve coughs, the tips of his ears flush pink as he turns back towards the stove and busies himself with the bacon while Sam focuses on the remaining pancake batter. Bucky chuckles and slips in between them so he can kiss them both good morning before getting the butter and jam out of the fridge, setting the table and pouring mugs of coffee for everyone. 

He catches a glimpse of the gently falling snowflakes outside and can’t help but smile despite himself, for once finding himself happy to see it. 

Breakfast gets interesting when Bucky decides to sit himself on Sam’s lap and tugs Steve’s chair in until it’s nearly touching theirs, feeling the urge to have them both close today. They feed each other sweet, sticky bites of food between warm kisses, laughing at the mess they’re making of one another as butter and syrup get everywhere. 

The shower is a bit small to comfortably fit three well-built men but they make it work, tugging sweatpants back on without bothering to towel themselves dry. 

There are presents under the tree waiting to be opened, after all, and once Steve gets the fire going again they settle down in a circle to unwrap them, the television creating a comfortable white noise with the movie they had put on in the background. 

Steve is unamused when he opens his first gift from Bucky: a pair of candy cane leggings that match the ones Bucky had gotten from Natasha. 

“Now we never have to worry about losing one another in a crowd,” Bucky snickers, easily dodging the leggings as they get chucked in his direction. Steve forgives him, though, when he opens his next gift and sees a set of brand new charcoal pencils and a larger sketchbook, leaning across the circle so he can thank him with a warm kiss. Sam got him an expensive set of oil paints that he’d seen Steve eyeballing online one day and a box of different flavored chocolate truffles. 

It’s Sam’s turn next and his eyes light up with excitement when he unwraps the video game Steve knew he’d been pining after for weeks. He goes quiet when he unwraps the beautiful, leather bound journal from Bucky, though, cocking his head to the side in silent question. Bucky shrugs and runs metal fingers through still damp hair, an uncertain smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“You said sometimes it helps to write stuff down, when you can’t sleep, or you feel like things are slipping. So I figured I’d get you one small enough to keep with you when you, um.. When you need it,” Bucky explains awkwardly, relaxing when Sam wraps his arms around him and presses a soft kiss to the curve of his neck.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate it. I truly do,” Sam sighs, smiling when he pulls back and gestures for Bucky to unwrap the box in front of him. 

It’s got both Sam’s and Steve’s names on it and when Bucky tears off the paper the box itself is fairly plain and nondescript. He can smell the tense excitement radiating from the other two, though, and plows ahead, peeling the tape off the seam and unfolding the flaps of the box.

He goes still as he pulls the silky dark blue dress out from inside the box, peering nervously between it and the two men patiently watching him to see his reaction. 

“You don’t have to wear it until, or if, you’re comfortable with it, Buck. But you seemed to really like it when you saw it. And we wanted to get it for you, even if you keep it in the box and never put any of it on,” Steve says gently, and Bucky peers beneath the dress to see a matching corset and stockings, looking soft and blue and beautiful. 

His eyes are watery when he looks back up again and he carefully folds the dress back into the box, careful not to let it crease before gently closing the flaps again. 

“Thank you. I just-” 

He pauses again and smiles faintly, sliding across the circle so he can bury himself against Steve’s chest, hand snaking out to grasp for Sam’s.

“Thank you. For understanding,” he whispers finally, letting the pair of wrap him up in a tight hug. They end up in a tangle of limbs on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, Sam sprawled back against the arm rest while Bucky wraps around him, cheek pressed to his chest so he can listen to the steady thud of his heartbeat. Steve curls on top of them and Bucky feels more at ease than he ever has in his life.

They put a turkey with all the trimmings in the oven and Bucky is given the task of putting together a pumpkin pie while Steve peels potatoes and Sam boils carrots. The entire house smells of rosemary and garlic soon enough and next time Bucky swears to himself that they’ll have Christmas with their friends in New York City next year. 

When they finally sit down for dinner Bucky can’t remember ever eating anything so delicious before.

Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll ever muster up the nerve to wear that dress. There’s a part of him that still remembers the fear and risk of being different. But he knows if he ever makes that decision either way, Sam and Steve will both be here to support him, the same way they always are. 

He falls asleep that night with a smile on his face. It has truly been a Christmas worth remembering.

**Author's Note:**

> If awkward superhero nerds and incoherent text posts about Sebastian Stan's beautiful face are your thing, you can find me on tumblr [here!](http://buckybarnnes.tumblr.com)


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